Convenient Tremors
by May La Nee
Summary: Ronald Weasley was minding his own business when suddenly a young man entered his life and started causing some serious drama. Psychological drama. Slash. No smut. Second generation. Slightly AU. Contains depiction of mental illness and triggering material (automutilation and worse). Layout hates me, sorry. Based on an RP and inspired by the book: 'The Psychology of Harry Potter'.
1. Prequel

"Scorpius! I'm glad to see you again."

Scorpius sat down in the ear-chair across the man, and leaned back. The white semitransparent curtains blocked enough sun to prevent him from squinting against them, and he suspected Alfred chose this specific location for his chair so his hair seemed darker in comparison. He was balding, yes, but his hair was dark grey and long enough to cover the shiniest area of his head.

The petite frame of his glasses drew disproportionally much attention to them as he spoke.

"How have the past two weeks been for you?" the man asked, folding his fingers together over his belly. Scorpius knew that the moment he'd start speaking those fingers would unfold again, struggle to find a pen and then scribble the gist of what he was saying on that notepad there.

Alfred had tried to use a Quick-Quotes Quill before, but the object had been too keen to write and required both of them to go through the notes together again to filter out the relevant information.

"Crap." Scorpius responded in his usual cheerful tone, placing his left ankle on his right knee and holding onto it. Subconsciously he tried not to cry.  
>"I still haven't received a message from my mother, the apartment is crap, I'm having difficulty sleeping now no matter <em>how<em> much I drink, I think I'm developing a habit of binge eating and my room mates hate me. I was disappointed when I didn't get hit by a car on my way here, and I ate mouldy food last night hoping it would kill me. ..._And_ I was this close to stealing cigarettes from my room mates last night."

Alfred nodded his head to the side, and Scorpius knew what he wanted to ask so he answered; "...I would have taken them if they had any."

He'd manage easily without a psychotherapist if he just had the privacy to say these things.

"I feel empty," Scorpius nodded, smile still on his face. He didn't have to make any conscious effort to keep it there. "Nothing seems worth the effort, my mother had three weeks to respond to my owl now and she didn't even write to say she received _mine._ I know they're all right, dad's mentioned in the papers twice without exceptional news so it must be her simply... not writing. Unless he doesn't allow her to, but she's always been very well able to stand up to him and to do what she wanted."

He paused for a moment – he knew Alfred wouldn't interrupt him. Alfred knew he studied psychology, he knew that Scorpius knew what things were important when it came to these conversations. His father didn't know he studied psychology... his father didn't even know he was alive, unless his mother had been informing him of their correspondence. Then still- he probably was too busy to care, like the big time lawyer he was.

"Perhaps she's done with me too, she might just not want to have to deal with my drama any longer. I did cause them a lot of trouble when I was younger- surely you remember that."

Alfred nodded.

When the topic faded in silence, Scorpius continued; "the apartment is awful. I think we've got rats now – None of us can be bothered to tidy. I live with Muggles, so.. but it's-... I don't get the-... satisfaction from tidying as I would, if I used my wand to do it. It'd still feel pointless, not like an accomplishment. And it'd seem very empty and cold, I think, when I can see the floor again."

Alfred nodded.

"I haven't cut any more, not in those two weeks. There was no point; I felt...comfortably numb, I think you'd call it? I got a ten out of ten on my last exam, Abnormal Psychology, I was the only one to and I didn't care. While before, it was one of my main motivations to get full marks. But I'm not sad about it. I just... don't care." He shrugged – smile still intact. He nodded to himself a bit, and realised he was now fighting his tears. "Nothing matters. I just want to die." His voice choked up there. Alfred hadn't made a single note.

Scorpius pressed his lips together, and nodded in the direction of Alfred's notepad. "Have you given up on me too?"

Alfred sighed deeply and then leaned forward in his chair. His hands remained folded, but were now placed on the desk. "I haven't given up on you Scorpius, and I never will," during that sentence he looked up at him, "You, however, have. It takes more than that watery smile of yours-" Alfred nodded at him, and Scorpius lifted the left corner of his mouth and exhaled through his nose as if he was amused, "-to convince me of the contrary."

They looked at each other, therapist and client, until neither of them were certain what was going on any more. They had seen each other in this room so often over the past six years or so, that there was a certain comfort in just being together.

Tears started to make their way out of Scorpius' eyes, streaming down almost unnoticed if it wasn't for Alfred's eyes watering up in response.

"...I feel guilty, mainly." Scorpius said after half a minute. Experience taught him implicitly Alfred would have asked him about it if he would have waited. "Towards my family for not being the way I ought to be, for not... trying harder to stay in touch with them, for being gay for having tried to get help for problems they don't seem aware I'm having, and I feel guilty towards you for using you like I do, because you and I both know I don't need this... towards your other clients who can't talk to you when I'm here, for not being more grateful for what I have, I mean... I look good." The pause then made that final statement seem disproportionally important. "..and I'm intelligent, I'm just also fucked in the head. I just don't want it, I feel guilty for being so ungrateful, I feel guilty for not making a bigger effort to make the world better, I feel awful for whoever will have to scoop me up or clean me up after I've done it and I feel downright awful for seeing you like this... Don't cry, you haven't failed. It's my fault, you tried to fix it but it's too late."

Alfred pursed his lips and nodded, looking as if he was impatient for his own words to come out. "It's not your fault... you are suffering from a personality disorder-" Scorpius sighed almost impatiently, "- and it's affecting the way you think. You know that by now. And your guilt is... unjustified. It is my job to help you, it is not your job to make the world better and it is not. too. late." Alfred sounded desperate- he probably knew his words were in vain.

Scorpius waited for more to come but there was nothing. He wasn't making it easy for poor Alfred, was he? The man knew how well he knew what he was saying, that he wasn't saying it in a whim. "I know it's a personality disorder, but I also realize that it is part of me as much as any other aspect of me. It's not something that's going to go. I have to either learn how to live with it, or not." He almost chuckled at the pathetic phrasing, "It's that simple. I tried _with_ now, it's not working, so I'm going to try to stop. I know that official policy means you ought to take me in now, so you can keep an eye on me, but I did my research and realised the only place you can take me is either Azkaban or a private place you might have somewhere-... and I highly doubt you would do that. A Muggle institution is also hardly an option, and there's nobody to keep an eye on me at home. I don't have a social circle, I don't even have pets, all I have is my fags and that includes the one I see in the mirror every day." His tears had stopped falling.

"I got you something."

Alfred's surprise was genuine and obvious.

"I know it's silly and random, but I saw it and it reminded me of you so I decided to get it for you..." Scorpius reached in his bag, a shoulder-strap black denim bag with neon yellow orange and pink graffiti print, and got out something wrapped in plain grey paper.

"It came from a Muggle store." He put it on the desk and shoved it forward the way a practised bartender would move a drink over the bar.

"I know our relationship is supposed to be purely professional, but... And if you hate it, you can smash it but only after I'm gone," Scorpius said as Alfred freed the painted clay hedgehog from the wrapping paper. The spikes on its back were much like combed coconut mat, and the entire creature was stretched out as if it was worshipping the sun, its big cartoon eyes looking up at it.

Alfred smiled. Scorpius did too. It wasn't clear whose face was sadder.  
>"You told me three years ago you collected hedgehogs, I don't know if you still do... but this one just-... yes. It reminded me of you so I decided to bring it for you."<p>

Alfred nodded, and put the statue on the table while studying its bright green sneakers and white socks, the skinny legs -.. basically the entire thing as an excuse to not look at the other.

"I don't think you failed." Scorpius said. "I just don't want this any more. Nine years -six with you, and zero improvement, it's just not going to happen. I think you did a great job at cheering me up and giving me hope, but lately there's just nothing there. So," he shrugged in an animated fashion as if it was a statement in itself. "I'd name that thing Billy," he said with a nod when he noticed Alfred was still looking at it, not allowing the man to respond to his previous statement. "Suits him. You still collect them?"

Alfred nodded.

"Nice... he'll be right at home with the lot of them. Where do you keep them in? One of those display cabinets, or-?"

Alfred nodded. "Scorpius," he then said, just when Scorpius was about to open his mouth again. "You've told me many things in the brief time we've been together today." He allowed a pause. Of course he did – he needed to list these things for himself. Scorpius just sighed. "You said your mother still hasn't responded to your letter, your apartment still doesn't live up to your expectations-..." Scorpius interrupted him; "To health standards." Alfred nodded his head to the side to acknowledge that, but responded in no other way to it; "You also mentioned your sleeping trouble, your eating habits spiralling out of control, you feel empty, cold, and you want to die... and you feel incredibly guilty over that last- over wanting to die, specifically. Is that correct?"

Scorpius sighed again, his 'watery smile' still on his face. "Yes. It is. But I don't feel like talking through it all. again., getting more medication that doesn't do a thing for me, getting my hopes up, having them slammed down, and then sitting here again." He was on the verge of being annoyed now, and he continued; "...I can tell you're desperate, I understand it must be incredibly stressful for you to be one of the very few psychotherapists in the Wizarding World, because you're establishing the entire field nearly on your own here and all the critics are eyeing you... but you've got to realise that I _know_ that, I _recognise_ it, and I feel bad enough that I can't help you there as it _is_. I'm certain there are plenty of people you _can _help, but for me it's too late. I'm _sorry_. But I'm 'done'."

Alfred nodded softly, his eyes down on his desk, his hands folded again. It looked like he wanted to curl up over the edge of the desk (like a hedgehog would) and just make the sadness go away.

"I didn't mean to ruin your mood," Scorpius said at the same time as Alfred said; "I won't be seeing you again, then?"

It was quiet for two seconds. "I'm sorry," Scorpius then said, got up, and put his bag over his shoulder.

Alfred looked up at him from his nearly-curled up position. "Take care of yourself," Scorpius said, raised a hand, and then walked out the door.

The watery sun wasn't helping Scorpius mood, nor was the chilly wind. The best thing to do now was to get a rope, something like that plastic stuff Muggles used to hang their washing from. Annnd... he also needed really slippery soap or something for his hands and feet, a better razor for his wrists and perhaps some sleeping pills.

When he entered the Muggle shopping street, for some unknown reason his eyes were drawn to a man. To most people this man was probably no way out of the ordinary; he was quite tall though, his face seemed serious and not particularly handsome _or_ ugly. He wasn't doing anything in particular either. In fact, he was walking in the general direction of the McDonalds in the distance, and he appeared to be listening to the men who were walking and talking at either side of him.

But there was something about that man... something about the way he moved, the way he seemed to nod very, very slightly every step he took, the way his hands were thrust deep into his pockets, the way not every step he took was equally big, the way his long black raincoat moved with those steps, the way his red hair seemed almost brown, the way he responded to the men at his sides with nothing but moves of his head... There was just something about him, _something_ about him, that made him wildly attractive.

It wasn't even a 'handsome' kind of attractive, or a 'let's have sex' kind at all for that matter. Just the kind that made him want to be with him and make him happy.

Without a second though – without looking if there was any traffic coming, for Scorpius stopped doing that a long time ago – he crossed the street and followed the men on a good distance, not being able to hear what they said but _just_ being able to hear their voices.

"Come on, Weasley!" one of the men said.

Weasley... _WEASLEY_! Ronald Weasley, head of the Auror Department... was that him?

Shaking, Scorpius entered the nearest store, bought a package of cigarettes and went right back to his student apartment, forgetting all about his plans. He had to talk to that man. Alone.


	2. Chapter 1

Ronald Weasley was doing nothing in particular that Monday evening. He had neatly piled up the paperwork he was ought to look at without looking at it, he had piled up the memos that had flown in, and he had made sure to rid of the dishes that had gathered on his desk over time.

Earlier that day he had taught the Aurors in training, and now he was waiting for a mission. Any mission. Kill-this-boredom-_please._

At three in the morning his shift would end, and he didn't feel like spending the time until then playing cards with Potter and McLaggen or by playing chess online.

Maybe he should look at all this paperwo-... Nah. It was probably better to check his hotmail inbox. He peeked over his shoulder to make sure his colleagues weren't paying too much attention to him, and then logged in.

Spam  
>Spam<br>Spam

...and an automated message saying that he had been banned from a forum due to posting inappropriate content.

Great.

MSN then, perhaps Rose was online and she could tell him about what she's been doing. She was just like her mother, really. The ease with which she took in new information was astounding, and the ability and desire to study Transfiguration in America certainly was something _his_ genes didn't provide her with.

Much like he expected, Rose wasn't online. Nor was Hugo. Someone wanted to add him though, and curiously he allowed them to. He wasn't added to people's contact lists often, but then again – it could still be one of those cursed sex bots. All though... their screen name was not particularly... sex bot...-ish; 'You've got to make your own sunshine'.

Hm.

He opened the window to start talking to this person, but just when he was about to click it the person invited him to a call.

Surprised and all the more curious, Ron put on the headset and accepted.

He opened his mouth to say 'hello', but before he could he heard a man's voice say; "Ah, you accepted!" It sounded enthused and relieved, an odd combination for a stranger to have when talking to you. The voice indeed did not sound familiar. "I am talking to Ronald Weasley, aren't I?"

Slightly intimidated by the enthusiasm, Ron responded "Yeah-, yes... Who are you?"

"My name is Scorpius," the male voice said. "I'm 19 years old, I study psychology- about to start my second year in uni, and-"

A vague sense of recognition appeared in Ron's head... "What's your surname?" he asked suspiciously.

"Malfoy, Sir." the young man said, his enthusiasm no less than before. "My name is Scorpius Malfoy. I'm sure you know my father?"

"Phoar," Ron responded, scoffing and shaking his head. Draco Malfoy was the most notorious defence attorney amongst Aurors- it was as if Malfoy made it his goal in life to pester them- getting everyone they brought in back out on the streets.  
>'<em>Providing you with work, Weasley, you ought to be grateful.<em>'  
>And he was now talking to that jerk's offspring. "Why er... do you want to talk to me?" Ron asked, disliking the boy already.<p>

"Uhm." it sounded like a statement in itself. "Well, that's a bit complicated-... or actually very simple. See; I'm afraid telling you would make you not want to talk to me any more."

"Are you finding dirt on me to help your father?" Ron instantly asked, tone flat and all hope for an entertaining conversation gone.

The boy laughed. "No, Sir. I don't er-... no. This is entirely personal, off-the-record, er... Random. Would you mind if we just chatted for a bit?"

Ron's mind raced for an excuse, but before he found one the boy already continued; "I know it's strange and random, I just... well, decided to give it a go. Are you in work right now? Am I disturbing anything?" Concern sounded genuine... but Malfoy were known for being able to feign human emotion.

"Yes and no," he replied in a short tone. "...what do you want to ch-..?" He didn't need to ask; "-Oh you're at work! At this time? I heard being an Auror is not a 9 to 5 job, but is it really as bad as they say?"

Ron chuckled and stroked his hand over his face. This boy clearly was the type of person who didn't shut up until you told them to. "It's worse," he said without a doubt but slightly amused. "today's shift for me started at 2 and it'll end at 3. So uhm..."

"A thirteen hour shift? Oh my _word_! And this is- Do you get compensation for not being able to take part in society? I mean;- or is this an exception? It can't be the norm, can it? That'd be unethical, there's got to be someone you can complain to about it, that's just- there's no way one can remain focussed over such an amount of time! A- "

This was... strange. Malfoy's offspring sounding genuinely concerned about him... or about the current bureaucratic mess he was in.

"No," Ron interrupted him. If that ramble would have continued he would have lost the plot there, "Since Potter's nervous breakdown" -covered, enlarged and exaggerated double and across _twice_by every medium on the planet- "I got some more tasks than before, so I need more time to do them."

No matter how bad he felt for his friend, he was a bit proud that he, Ronald Bilius Weasley, was now the main foundation of the entire Auror Department.

"Oh, you're taking his hours too?" the boy asked.

"Yup."

"Oh... wow, so what about your wife? Do you ever get to see her?" Again, the boy's concern seemed genuine.

Ron cocked a brow; "I've er... been divorced-"

"Oh! Oh I'm so sorry! I-"

Ron sighed and interrupted him;"-for about twelve years now... it's okay,"

"Really? I didn't mean to-"

"Yeah. Happy single." Ron nodded to himself as he said that, feeling a bit restless.

"I'm glad, I'm glad, but isn't it... have you had many relationships since?"  
>Ron didn't really want to get into this...; "Nah, not really. "<p>

"Don't you ever get lonely though? With the odd hours I can imagine it's hard to find someone new... let alone go out to party."

This boy was talking to him as if they were friends... a bit too much too soon, for Ron's liking.

"Look, this er-... what is it you want to talk about?" He checked his watch, hoping to see it was three. Much to his surprise it WAS, but when he realised it wasn't ticking he sighed and put it off. "...stupid piece of shit...," he muttered, tossing it aside, on top of the pile of paperwork he ought to look at. With the other crap, where it belonged.

Strangely enough the boy was quiet for a second, and Ron immediately realised there was no way he could know that he had been addressing his watch there. "Not you! Not you, I er... my watch. Broke. So. But- what do you want to talk about?"

The boy made a guttural sound; clearly his mouth was opened. "I er... Right. I know this is silly and... foolish and naïve and-... but I know that not trying would make me a real loser, so... I er... Do you know how people often say; 'I saw him there and I just know he-or she- was the one'? Like the... stomach feeling, or just... Yeah?"

"Hm." Ron responded affirmatively, not all too interested, and also not sure if he knew where this was going.

"Yeah, well... I know this is... _beyond_ bizarre, but er... when I saw you walk down the street the other day I just..." the boy cleared his throat; "I just... _felt_, that... Well, er-... You... you know where I'm going with this, I don't doubt, so please take me out of my misery here by saying something."

It took a second or two.. almost three before Ron was... baffled. "Eh..." he then managed. "But,..." He then laughed a bit. "That's... flattering." He cleared his throat. -

"I know, I know it is, that's why I was so hesitant to say it, I didn't want to scare you away, I mean when it comes to the whole gay-thing it's dangerous to ask. Like. Most men get offended when you ask, I think so anyway, and the ones that don't get offended are people you didn't actually need to ask, so-... Eh... But, you're not... You don't have a problem with that? With me being er-..."

"Heh..." was Ron's initial response. Then; "Does your father know about that?" He couldn't hide the grin in his voice as he asked that. After all, Draco Malfoy was only the biggest bigot he knew.

"Yeah." Somehow the boy's voice sounded 'bitchy' now. "Yes, he knows." ...sounding 'normal' again.

"What did he say?" Ron asked, still amused.

"He... kicked me out. I haven't seen him in anything other than photos for two years now. I still talk to my mother though, it's really dad being... old-fashioned... It's okay though, I live in a student flat now and got my everything sorted, but... Nah. He didn't take it too lightly."

"Oh..." Despite the boy's enthusiasm appearing genuine again, Ron did feel bad for not thinking before asking. "I'm sorry to hear that,..."

"Don't worry about it, it's not a problem," the boy responded, sounding as if they were talking about hobbies. "So you don't have a problem with it? I'm not going to-... force myself on you, or anything like that, I just... Yeah, want to talk? Maybe.. if you're- I'm ahead of myself again, it's just that I'm a bit nervous see."

"No no no, yeah- it's okay, my er-... We've got _strong_ suspicions my son is gay and... well," Ron cleared his throat; "I'm bi myself," he added under his breath. Quickly he peeked over his shoulder, but McLaggen and Potter were playing cards as if he wasn't even there.

Even though he knew for a fact McLaggen fucked everything that moved and Harry would not make it a problem either, he didn't really want them to know.

"Really? Oh, that's _great_ news, That's- I've got no.. I don't _expect_ this to work out, I'd _love_ for it to, but I don't-... I'm not getting my hopes up, but I'm really glad to hear that, that's the best news I've heard all day," the boy said, just as enthused as before.

"Heh... so..." Ron cleared his throat. "What do you look like?"  
>"Oh hold on, I'll send you some pictures... got too many of those, Let me... See if I can share some... I've got er... I'm eight years old in the oldest one here, but there's also this picture taken a few months ago where I was <em>beyond<em> hung over... not sure if that's a good thing... Nah probably not yet; I've got some modelling pictures too, don't know if- How about I'll show you your average mugshot. Yeah,..."

Seconds later a window opened, showing the face of a young man with a smile on his face. An incredibly... handsome... young man... with a smile on his face.

Straight white teeth, sunny-blonde hair combed back, graceful but angular jaw, pink lips, ocean coloured eyes... His ears were sticking out a little bit but because of the way his slightly curled hair was combed back, it wasn't very obvious. "...you don't look gay," was the first thing Ron said, nearly suspiciously.

"Thank you," the boy said, genuinely flattered. "I hear that a lot actually. And I'm glad- well, I consider it a compliment, not sure if that's normal but I do... Here's a picture of me at age eight-"

A picture of the same face with a dose of naivety and baby fat added to it. He was wearing a white shirt, top buttons opened, and there was a cheeky grin on his face. "Wow... you look like a little angel," Ron said in amazement, not even intending to compliment the boy.

"Thanks, thank you, yeah it's one of the professional photos I got taken. Glad you like it, I consider it one of my best."

"...you said you're studying psychology?" Ron asked, amazed by the boy's good looks. He clicked back and forth between the pictures,

"Yes, I want to be a psychotherapist- _if_ I'm fit for it that is, otherwise I think I'll pursue a career in modelling. I used to be in Ravenclaw, with Rose, she and I got on fairly well, what's she doing nowadays?"

"She's studying Transfiguration in America, California I think she's in-... "

"Oh wow, that's amazing!" the boy said, and Ron started to realise that every time he let his voice trail off the boy thought he was finished talking. Something he ought to keep in mind-

"She was indeed very good at it... Is she an Animagus too?"

Ron nodded, then realised there was no way the boy could see that. "Yeah, she's a cat. Not quite there yet because it's her hair colour instead of fur colour, but... yeah, she's a cat."

"Nice, you must be really proud of her, that's very impressive. It's the hardest topic there is, isn't it? And didn't you have a son, too?"

"Yeah, Hugo, he just finished his last year of Hogwarts – Slytherin. He works at Burger King now- temporarily I hope, I don't know what he's going to do."

Scorpius chuckled. "He'll work out well, you've provided him with everything he needs to make it in the world. Same for Rose, I bet she'll do amazingly... what are your plans in life? Do you always want to be an Auror?" The boy's interest in Ron was really flattering – it didn't happen often someone wanted to talk to him for _him_. People either wanted to talk to Harry and used him as a door handle, or they needed some other favour. "Yeah, definitely." he answered without a doubt.

"Ah, so are you planning to retire at all, or are you the type to stay in place, get your special designated chair in the centre of the... office, and watch all the 'kids' ruin their tasks so you can point it out to them and tell them it was better in the old days? You know, be the grumpy grandpa?"

Ron laughed at the mental image and lit a cigarette. Before he could respond to the situation sketch the boy started speaking again; "Oh you're a smoker, aren't you? I heard you light it, how much do you smoke?"

"Mneh... four, five a day? Do you smoke?"

"Yeah, occasionally though, varies... I've had days where I smoke two and a half packs, I've also gone a few days without. It's very er... It differs a lot, it differs. Do you have other guilty pleasures like that?" The tone in Scorpius' voice seemed a bit... mischievous, and Ron couldn't help but grin. It was hard not to trust the boy, it was incredibly difficult to fake a tone like that. Though if he studied psychology.. they might have tricks for that...

"Guilty pleasures...?" Ron repeated, immediately feeling McLaggen's and Potter's eyes in his neck. "Porn," he said, not giving the boy time to speak in between. "Just porn. It's not really guilty though, those people need appreciation too."

The boy laughed, a very attractive sound.

"Yeah, well, that's the way it is. What about yourself then, any... guilty pleasures?" Ron asked, feeling his colleagues' eyes in his neck again.

The boy made a sound to indicate he was thinking. "I think... it's... eating. Actually. The other night I ate a litre of Ben&Jerry's, two bags of crisp, a Happy Meal and a box of cupcakes... washed it down with three bottles of wine. And these two and a half packs of fags, it er-... I need to work on that," he chuckled nearly apologetically.

"...bloody Hell. You must work out a _lot _to make up for that," Ron was amazed. He himself barely stomached wine at all.

"Not enough, I've got a fast metabolism, but really-... who can drink three bottles of wine in one night and keep it all in? I er... most of that stuff doesn't get processed." He inhaled through his nose as if he was having a cold, even though he clearly wasn't. "It's boredom-eating, really. Quite pathetic if you think about it... But there's just no putting a lid on it when there's nobody there." Despite the topic being heavy, his voice still sounded quite happy. There was no way that was genuine.

"Don't you ever get lonely?"

Ronald was slightly taken by surprise by the question, especially now he 'knew' what this lad wanted from him. "Sure, but.. doesn't everybody? It's not like I'm constantly sat there crying, binge eating and getting wasted, when it creeps up I go out, simple as that." Within a split second he realised he just listed the things the boy just told him _he_ did. Before he could apologise or make it less painful though, the boy was already speaking again; "That's good, you shouldn't give in to that nonsense when you've got friends there for you. It's good to get out every now and then, and with the insane hours you work it's probably impossible to have a social life at all if you didn't already have your friends, am I right?"

"Pretty much, yeah," It was amazing how this boy seemed not at all offended by his remark, and for a moment he was worried he had actually really hurt the kid. Before he could say anything though the boy continued; "Are they all colleagues then? I mean- you being Aurors you depend on each other entirely, these situations you're in must be incredibly bonding. You must be really close, the lot of you."

"Yeah," Ron nodded, looking behind him for a moment to see Potter lay with his head on the table as he got some coins from his pocket to give to McLaggen.

"You okay mate?" he asked, laugh in his voice.

"I'm dead," came Potter's muffled reply. "Nah," said McLaggen, "There's 24 Knuts still in there."

"How the fuck do you know how much money I've got?"

As McLaggen and Potter started one of their many arguments about absolutely nothing Ron turned back to the monitor just to be enchanted by how handsome the boy in the pictures was. "We've got this strange... thing going between us though, because our name tags say our last names only, we no longer call each other by our first names," looking at that face whilst talking made it easier... "it was just confusing, the people thinking we were their friends while they were just victims to us."

"Victims?" The boy asked, smile still in his voice, "If there is something I learned in psychology it is to never treat people like victims-"

"No no no no no no no, none of that...Ravenclaw-stuff. It's- my Auror brain isn't made for that. Tell me more about yourself, instead."

The boy chuckled; "What would you like to know?"

After a few seconds – in which Ron was thinking – the boy asked; "I see you've got a webcam,... mind if I put it on?"

"No, sure, go ahead,...if you put yours on too."

A moment later both cameras were on, and both men looked at each other curiously.

Scorpius leaned back in his chair, one foot on the edge of his desk and the other on the floor. The camera angle made his head look tiny but that didn't bother him – this was who he was, and if this thing was going to work out Ron was going to see him from far more odd angles anyway.

"Hello," he said, raising a hand to the camera lazily. "Looking good," he smirked half, feeling the butterflies in his stomach try to take off.

Ron was embarrassed; "Wha-uhm... thanks. So; how about you begin at the beginning?", and Scorpius just smiled.

"Well, I was born prematurely... so they put me in one of those eggs,"

Ron nodded; the 'eggs' were a safe way to have prematurely born babies grow. Hugo had been born prematurely too, and Hermione had been laying in the hospital bed with this massive egg beside her. The both of them and Rose had written and drawn on it, and saved the shell to show him when he was older. When Hermione and him had showed it to their children, the first thing Rose said when she saw it was that her handwriting had definitely improved. "Did your grandparents write on it too?" Ron asked, and Scorpius shook his head.

"Nope, nobody did actually. My dad thought it was better to leave it blank." his smile remained intact. "He says it's more sophisticated... They also rid of it after I didn't need it any more."

"Hm-... I grew up with some difficulty you could say that, I didn't like listening as much as talking, and I had trouble sitting still. That, and I wanted things my way... But then I went to Hogwarts, Ravenclaw as I said, did pretty well, and decided I wanted to study psychology. ...and here we are."

"Why psychology?" Ron asked. If that boy was serious about being instantly in love with him,... perhaps there was a one-night stand in it for him... perhaps not. Regardless, getting to know him seemed like a good idea.

The boy was quiet for a moment. "...because I'm a bit bonkers, I think. I'm seeing a psychotherapist for a while now, and it really got me interested in the human psyche."

With interest Ron watched him speak, and how he then took a sip of wine from the bottle in a nearly demonstrative way. "How are you bonkers then?"

In response the boy took another sip, and Ron couldn't help but summon the mental image of that bottle being his cock, pressed against those pretty lips. "Mood swings and that- officially I've been diagnosed with Borderline Personality Disorder... don't know if you've heard of it?"

Ron shook his head, a bit intimidated by how serious it seemed now he knew the 'bonkers' had a term.

"Right, so basically I've got... no sense of self.- I know I'm here, but there's just no... I don't know who I am. I can think of what hobbies I have, favourite meals, colours, whatever, personal history too, but when I think of who I am there is just.. nothing there. No.. personality, no... nothing. Just... hollow. I'm a bit of an emo kid, really, mood changes ninety degrees every hour, the moment people aren't there with me I think they don't care, can't stand being alone, get tantrums, friends talking to people I dislike makes me hate them... yeah. C'est moi." The tone the boy explained this in made it seem entirely surreal; he still sounded happy. As if there was nothing the matter at all, still talking to him as if they had been friends for ages.

"I've... ruined it now, haven't I? Nobody wants to give things a go with a madman-" The tone he used sounded like he was summarising what he had read to a teacher, so Ron couldn't help but cut him off. It didn't seem right for that boy to be unhappy.

"How long have you been in therapy?" he asked, actually feeling a bit more at ease with himself in this situation. Right; this boy was practically a stranger, still, but any insecurities he had over flaws of his own were melting away.

"Hm... I think for about nine years now. " The boy was quiet for a moment, but Ron could tell from the way he was sat there that he was thinking of how to continue. "I was er... My parents went out a lot, I used to think they were trying to abandon me. Also – for a long time I thought it was normal to say bad things about a person the moment they'd left... something I picked up when I was younger. I'm not trying to accuse my family of my messed up mind, but I do think it added to... you know, I had the disposition and yeah, all the ingredients were there. When I was about ten years old I was playing with friends, and we somehow started talking about the eggs, you know, one of them had been in one too. And they said they still had it, it was orange with green spots on it and every member of the family got a spot to write or draw something in, things like that they loved him so much and that they were looking forward to enjoy him grow up, and all such things more." The boy's voice wavered for a moment, and Ron watched him light a cigarette and clearly recover.  
>"Him telling me how... cheesy it was that they all wrote these silly things... and that he thought it was gay, and who knows what else,-... It made me feel bad. You know, because mine was plain. I 'confronted' my parents about it, for as far as 10-year-olds can do that, and had an insane tantrum when my dad told me not to be ridiculous about it. Because it was no big deal." Again, the boy's voice sounded happy. As if he was telling Ron about last weekend's party. Imagining him have a tantrum was beyond Ron, so he decided to ask about it.<p>

"I er... Well; claimed I hated them for one. And that they hated me, too. And that they should have taken a statue if they wanted real sophistication, not a child. And something about wishing they would just be nice for once- all in a crying fit of course." He took a deep drag from his fag. "They sent me to my room where I drank half a bottle of shampoo, thinking it would kill me. It didn't, of course, so when my parents later found out what I tried to do they immediately made sure I got therapy. Eight therapists and three years later, I got the diagnosis. And since then I've been trying to sort myself out. I can now cope. Like; I don't snap as easily any more, the tantrums are much less, so is the auto mutilation and the desire to send people away if they do one thing 'wrong' in my eyes. The mood swings are still there but I've been told by the people _I_ told, that they wouldn't have guessed there was anything the matter with me if I wouldn't have told them. So I have made progress." He nodded to himself as he tapped the cone off his fag before taking another drag and looking at his monitor.

"Did anyone ever tell you you are_ incredibly_ good looking?" he asked, making Ron's eyes widen.

Ron was surprised to hear that, and scoffed a bit at the not-at-all subtle change of topic.

"Thanks," he then said awkwardly, not sure what to do with this. He was rarely complimented on the way he looked – sure, Hermione had complimented him on the way he was dressed on several occasions – but nobody had ever told him he was good-looking while looking at his face alone!

"Aw don't get awkward- it's just a compliment, I can see you blush now," Scorpius said, smiling at the man. He took a long drag from his cigarette and then put it away. "...not like I mind, I just reckon you're not too comfortable right now.. are you all right?"

He felt a tad awkward when Ron grimaced and shook his head. "Why wouldn't I be all right?" the man asked, and again the butterflies in Scorpius' stomach did cartwheels or something else enthused and difficult to ignore.

"I don't know, I just find it... hard to assess? Face to face it's easier to talk, I get the body language, breathing depth, gestures, twitches- all of these things a lot more clearly, webcam and microphone are a poor substitute,... So I just asked."

"Right." Ron suppressed a burp, and Scorpius smiled broadly at the sound of it. He felt downright miserable. This man, Ron, he thought he was a weirdo. A freak. All the bad genes and a personality disorder on top. He was probably keeping him off his work, or he was being recorded or something and they'd use it against this father somehow. He didn't know.

"Pardon," Ron said, and Scorpius shook his head. "Not at all," he said, as he lit another cigarette.

Thankfully though, Ron quickly started a different topic to keep the conversation going; "So... what's your wand made of?"

Scorpius dropped the four feet of the chair back on the floor, face frozen in shock for half a second and then he started looking for that thing. "My wand... Oh wow... I haven't-... seen that thing in-... heh," he shook his head when he saw from the corner of his eyes that he was now off-camera.

"It's dogwood with unicorn hair,... and it's... in some location unknown to me... " He rummaged around through his things, gave up then, and sat back up, balancing the chair on its hind legs "Yeah..; it suits me I think. Sort of, anyway. Unicorn hair is gay enough, and the dogwood—Well the entire healing, protection, ... I don't know.. comfort... what else does it stand for?" He scoffed; "It may be obvious I'm no threat." He felt so bad, so hollow, his intestines felt like they were knotted together and the force of magnets was making them shrivel. And those bloody butterflies made him feel like a fool.

He knew all he wanted to do was to make this man happy. Be with him. Together with him. Have him at his side and do whatever it took to make him smile. But doing all that was difficult when they had only started talking minutes ago and he was blowing the first impression the way he was.

"What is your favourite colour?" he blurted out, before giving himself a chance to think it through. He _had_ to keep this conversation going, it felt like his life depended on it.

"Green, yours?" Ron responded instantly, and Scorpius smiled; "Orange. Favourite food?"

"Take out."

"Same! Animals?" Scorpius noticed it was becoming increasingly difficult to keep this smile on, but when he noticed his conversation partner was nearly smiling.

"NOT spiders."

"I don't think I an approve of that answer, General," he said near-mockingly.

Ronald definitely was smiling now; "Right. Cats then."

"I love cats too! Big ones though, like lions, tigers, cheetahs, pumas, you know... The tiny normal ones are awesome, but for pets and the like I think I would prefer dogs."

They spoke for hours, played a game of chess online that Ron won gloriously, and then it was 2.30 in the morning.

"I think I should get back to my paperwork," Ron said, immediately overcome with a sense of dread. The Paper was the most horrible thing in his life since the War had ended. Even Hermione hadn't been this horrible.

"Of course! You're at work!" the boy exclaimed instantly. "Oh, word, I totally forgot about that, I'm sorry for keeping you off it-"

"Don't worry about it" Ron interrupted him. "It was very nice talking to you, but I really should round this off and then... go to bed." He said the last few words in a sigh, for the thought of his bed made him feel warm and fuzzy inside and made him hate The Paper even more. The pile of it was smirking at him maliciously and he kind of wanted to set it on fire.

"Of course, I understand," the boy sounded calmer now. They had put the cameras off a while ago, because Ron didn't feel comfortable with them on. It made him feel watched. That did mean though that there was no way for him to assess the boy's facial expression right now.

"I hope to talk to you again soon, Ron, I'm very glad you found the time for me."

Ron blushed a bit in response to that. If that boy knew he had been picturing exactly from what angles he was going to penetrate him for the past 10 minutes, he probably wouldn't have said that.

"It was nice talking to you too. Good night!"


	3. Chapter 2

The first thing Scorpius did the next day was tidy. He woke up, lit a fag, and got to work. Notes, clothes, all the crap that had gathered in a pile in the living room over the months was gathered up and binned.

The only things he kept were his books and the items he did not recognise as his own.

He took his books to his room, and tidied that, too. He sorted his medication by date of expiration, put new sheets on his bed and binned the razors he had been using for cutting. All the while he was listening to his own thoughts concerning Ronald Weasley and they made him very happy.

When he was done, he had a quick breakfast. After that he gathered his notepad and pen, and attended his first lecture in over a month.

He took a random seat in about the middle of the room, feeling positive energy radiate off of him. It really was like he could take on the world if he wanted to.

Just as the lecture (Abnormal Psychology II – Child Psychology) started, a girl his age approached him quickly, begging her pardon as she made people get up from their seats so she could pass.

Her name was Joanna; Scorpius knew her from the Communication Skills course. They had gotten on very well together, and at some point even paired up for a big assignment they passed with top marks.

"Hey, I haven't seen you in a while," she said softly, as the professor asked the room for silence. Scorpius nodded; "Sleeping in beats lectures any day," he answered in a smile. After that they both got out their notepads and did what they were supposed to do.

After the lecture they had a coffee together, and exchanged notes. Scorpius had no idea what to talk to her about despite her being nice, so he ended up hearing her out about her personal life in a way that made it seem like they were having a random conversation. In reality though his mind was on Ron, and the conversation they had the night before.

Being able to talk to the man he coveted so had filled him with energy and determination to get his life on track. Tidying, attending a lecture and even chatting with a fellow student were things he would not have bothered with if it wasn't for the effect Ron had on him. He wanted to be perfect for Ron, and he was going to do his very best to be just that.

After Joanna and him had gone through their notes again and they finished their second coffee, they said their goodbyes. Scorpius went into town, there was a purchase he absolutely had to make to secure this positive energy and determination he felt. He wanted to keep it and cherish it forever, and there was only one item in the world that would help him do that.

After he bought it, he put it in his pocket and couldn't help himself but check if it was still there every other step he took on his way to Alfred. The poor man had no idea he was still alive.

A lady in her thirties left Alfred's office, and there was nobody else in the waiting room so Scorpius got up and carefully knocked the door as he opened it in the same move.

"Alfred?" he said carefully. He found the man at his desk, looking up at him in shock that melted into happiness. "Scorpius!" he said, dropping his pen before finishing the sentence he was writing.

"I thought you deserved an update after our goodbye a few days ago..." Scorpius said carefully, looking over his shoulder to see if there was anybody there who could overhear them. "Do you have a few minutes?"

"I have to say though, you look very good." Alfred responded with a smile, as he picked up his pen and very quickly finished writing his notes concerning his previous client.

Scorpius didn't bother to sit down; "Yeah, had a shave and grew a will-"

The therapist seemed a little confused; "I'm in love, Alfred," he said, not able to keep the smile from spreading over his face. "I met the most _beautiful _man the other day, I saw him walking down the street and I _knew_ I had to have him, he's handsome, he's funny, he's smart, we talked, we get along, he's _brilliant_, he's responsible, a wizard, and he's actually _single_!" Scorpius was sure his smile was going to tear up his face, that's how big it was, that's how happy he was. Nothing could knock him off his cloud.

"Unlike your ex," Alfred helpfully added. "Unlike my ex," Scorpius repeated happily. "Larry is totally over, he was a loser who couldn't make up his mind, but now I've found the man of my dreams. I actually told him, and it was how we started talking. I _started off_ telling him about myself, pretty much _everything _about myself, and he still wanted to talk to me! I'm over the moon, _ab_solutely over the moon, rolled up my sleeves and got my act together- I thought I ought to tell you after our goodbye the other day. You can keep the statue thingy, I just thought you ought to know you still have me as your client."

"I can tell you're happy, you're beaming! And I'm very glad you seem to be doing so well." Alfred said, and his facial expression backed up his words. "Would you like to meet again for a session next Thursday so you can tell me more?"

They planned the next therapy session, and said their goodbyes.

The very next thing Scorpius did was grocery shopping. Two people randomly greeted him, he had never seen them before but they greeted him, and it so possibly lifted his mood even more.

In the supermarket he bought nearly all fruits and vegetables he could find, some yoghurt, some cheese, and basically every other at least semi-healthy thing he could think of. Then he went back to his student apartment, cleaned it as much as he could, found his wand back in a vase between a long gone bouquet, and made the entire place look as good as new.

"Hey!" Scorpius said enthusiastically, the moment Ron accepted his call. "Hello," the man responded, sounding less enthused than he did at the end of their previous conversation. Because Scorpius had been taught to attach great value to people's tone of voice by his father, his years of therapy and his education, he picked up on it instantly and it flipped his mode from 'joy' to 'care' "How are you?" he asked, genuine concern obvious in his voice.

"I'm all right, how are you?" The response was too immediate, far too immediate for it to be a genuine response. This was auto pilot speaking, no doubt about it.  
>He decided to answer anyway, because obviously Ronald had a reason to respond this way. Perhaps he didn't feel like talking as much? Either way, he wanted Scorpius to think he was 'all right' so he would go with it. "I'm all right, very good actually." he slapped on his happy and smiled at the monitor as he continued, worry sinking in. "What have you been up to?"<p>

"Came home... slept... had food... went back to work..."

There was a brief silence, only broken by Ron yawning."...and you're still there." Scorpius finished for him when he heard Ron was just done yawning.

"Hm..." came the semi-affirmative response, "...you?"

Scorpius was quiet for a moment. He had been desperate to talk to the man again ever since they stopped talking the previous day, but now they were talking again, Ron sounded like he would rather be anywhere else. "I basically kicked my life back on track," he summarised with his happy still on. "Attended a lecture, cleaned up the habitat and got some food that's not too heart-attack provoking." He nodded quietly at the monitor, wondering why the hell this gorgeous man would be interested in his rambling. Perhaps telling him a total truth would help..;"...I've been thinking about you all day."

Instantly, he blushed. The silence on the other side made him wonder if Ron even heard him, but those doubts evaporated the moment he cleared his throat. "Really?" was the first real response he heard after nearly 20 seconds.  
>"Yes, I... told you why I wanted to talk to you last night, didn't I?" Scorpius felt blood rush to his face. "Well, I-…...," he chuckled, "Obviously I meant it..." his voice had an obvious playful ring to it, and he enjoyed hearing Ron's response to that even though it wasn't a word. "...-annnnd... I... Well, I was full of energy, earlier today, I practically went without sleep and I still feel like I can take on the world." Saying this made his happiness genuine again; "...and-...," His voice broke off, distracted by the embarrassment of saying this out loud. Was he really going to? "I can't-" he tried to explain, still sounding very happy, but he just couldn't get himself to say it.<p>

"What, you what?" Ron sounded happier now, and his curiosity was very audible.

Right, if Ron was sure, than so was he...

"I was thinking of you, earlier...," Scorpius continued, trying to sound somewhat sexy rather than like a four year old attempting to tell a joke. "And... I pictured what it would be like... to be with you... Just the two of us..."

"You were fantasising about me?" Ron asked, a certain urgency in his tone. He definitely sounded flattered.

Unable to suppress a grin, Scorpius nodded and then realised there was no way for the other to see that. He bit the tip of his tongue trying not to laugh."Yeah, I kind of did,..." His face was flushed now, and became even more so when he heard Ron chuckle in a slightly perverted way.

"What happened in this fantasy?"

Scorpius smiled at the monitor, embarrassment evaporating quickly. Of course he would tell him what happened, it obviously made Ron happy and at the end of the day, that was all he wanted, wasn't it?

"I was laying in my bed, on my back, just looking up at the ceiling, when you kissed me on the cheek... Then you climbed on top of me, and just... picturing what that would feel like, feeling you on top of me, feeling your breath, your weight, smelling you and feeling you so close was-..." he had to bite his tongue again not to sound mental. "-...all it took."

Ron grinned broader than he had in months.

Both remained quiet for a moment.

"That's, er... That's nice." Ron said with a smile.  
>Scorpius cleared his throat in an exaggerated way, mocking the silence.<br>"Yes, you said you watched porn, so I thought telling you I make up my own would be all right... not like it was actual porn, it was more romantic,- Not _super_ romantic though, it wasn't the kind that makes you cringe in mushy ness, but just-... I should shut up now."  
>Ron grinned. <em>And<em> blushed. This boy was very strange indeed... but kind of cute, too.  
>"What did you do today?" was the next thing he heard from the young man.<p>

Ron was about to open his mouth to point out the probably unintended repetition there, when the boy realised it for himself; "Oh, word, you must thing I'm totally dumb, you already told me, I'm so sorry, it's not that I'm not listening, it's just that I'm too forced, too- I'm just trying to hard, I suppose, I'm so sorry,"  
>Even though the boy hadn't stopped talking yet, Ron considered it time to say something. He was afraid the other would never stop if he didn't: "Yes, you try too hard... Just relax, okay?"<br>"Okay," the boy responded nervously, then chuckled a bit. He took a slightly emphasised deep breath, and chuckled again.

"Okay, yeah... I'm good. I've just not felt this happy in a very long time, I need to get used to it, you know? Get used again to what it's like to speak while _genuinely_ smiling without spittle dripping from my mouth, _do_ things, things that suddenly seem to _matter_ again, people seem to care, to _see_ me, and I see _them_ better, and everything is just-...," He took a breath to say the final word, the word that would conclude this rant, but none came.

Ron waited patiently though, and couldn't help but smile.

"...I don't think there is a word to describe how I feel."

The boy sounded so genuinely happy it made Ron's heart melt a bit, and the puddle it created turned into curiosity. "What made you so happy?"

"You did." There was absolutely no doubt in that voice, nor any 'pressure' of any kind. If anything, it sounded like a happy child stating an obvious fact. "Since I saw you in the flesh, I couldn't help but feel-... hope? Like its purest form, and it made me change, and now I'm... happy."

Those words sounded naïve and they carried a weight the speaker of them did not seem to be aware of. It was flattering, and at the same time a little intimidating.

"That's-...lovely..." Ron responded slightly awkwardly, and decided to steer the topic away from him being somehow complimented; "You seem to be in a very chatty mood... how about you tell me more about yourself?" he suggested, hoping to catch two pixies with one spell here. He could find out more about him to figure out if he wanted to at least try a one off, and meanwhile he'd be able to get on with his work occasionally, the boy's voice a noise in the background he could tune in and out to.

"Of course, anything! What would you like to know?"

Without another thought, and one hand dug into Mount Paperwork, Ron asked; "What did you do after your father kicked you out?"

It took the boy a second or two to respond, and when he did, he didn't sound too sure of himself: "...Y-you mean immediately? Like what I did the moment I set foot outside, or more... the big themes, like 'finding a place' and stuff? Because I don't mind telling you anything – you can ask _anything_ of me, I just don't want to bore you..."

Actually his words did not at all sound genuine... but Ron decided to ignore that and go with his Two Pixies One Spell plan: "I'd like to know every. single. detail... " If anything, the answer could serve as a way to assess the boy's honesty about his last claim.

"Okay, ..." the boy's voice had lost all traces of happiness, and he seemed incredibly hesitant. For a moment Ron froze just to listen; he didn't want to be too insensitive.

"Well, I think I should tell you why he kicked me out first... Don't want you to think he's all heartless..." The boy swallowed, and his voice hardened up after. Instead of sad he sounded neutral now; "My father had told me repeatedly I had to think of what I wanted to do after Hogwarts, what career path I wanted to pursue. He told me nearly every time we spoke to each other... he also said that I would have 'crossed the line' if I hadn't figured it out by the time I would have come home after the seventh year... He warned me often enough. For some reason though I expected him to sit down with me and help me try to figure it out... but he didn't." Silence for a few seconds. Ron carefully slid a statement from half way the pile of paper and rushed his eyes over it. When he was half way the boy spoke again;  
>"The day I returned from Hogwarts for the last time I came out to my parents. They didn't respond all too shocked... I've had enough whims before, claiming odd things, they were hard to startle by then." A moment of quiet reminiscence. Ron read on, the boy's words not yet processed.<p>

"The day after I returned he told me he was leaving for work. It was between ten and eleven in the morning... he told me he insisted I was gone by the time he would return. He said-"

The voice broke up, recovered, and rushed on: "He said he didn't want to see me any more until I had my life on track." A dramatic pause followed in which the meaning of Scorpius' words dawned in on Ron and distracted him from what he was reading. "I haven't spoken to him since."

This summoned thoughts of Hugo, his own son, who he hadn't seen in months. Hugo was a bit 'different'. He was in Hogwarts right now, but even if he wasn't he'd disappear for weeks on end without leaving a message, and barge in whenever he felt like it. Ron knew there was no need to worry; the boy was a Slytherin, he'd manage. Scorpius seemed a different matter entirely though, and for a moment Ron wondered how Draco was dealing with this. But then he remembered what Scorpius looked like and that tiny bit of bi-curiosity inside of him roared up and took over again.

Scorpius continued: "I went to my room, packed some clothes, my wand, some money, and I left. I didn't know where I was going... so I didn't consider I'd need pounds, not Galleons. I ended up spending three months on the street."

A moment of silence. Ron found it hard to get his focus back on his paper.

"Living on the street, people ignore you. Constantly. You start off, hopeful, asking for a few pence so you can buy something to eat. Depending on other people's whims you get something or not. At some point they don't give you enough and you ask them for food. Another level lower you become hopeful when they even bother to look you in the eyes as they tell you no."

The boy cleared his throat. "At first you're all right, you look... all right, your clothes are okay, there's a healthy look on your face, you seem sane, reasonable, people take you seriously... Plus you get to use the rest room in public buildings without getting stares..."

"I was afraid to use magic, I didn't want people finding me... Somehow I had acquired the delusion that my father would send people after me who would kill me if I made myself 'known' in any way. So I left London, stayed out of the Wizarding World, didn't use magic unless it was absolutely necessary, and I kept to myself."

"After about three months my- er... a stranger, who is now my ex, became my benefactor. He's a millionaire, so it wasn't a big effort for him to help... He started off paying for my stay in a hotel, then took me to a casino and gave me some money to play with. I've got this er... knack to see playing cards before I see them... so I made a huge profit playing Black Jack. From then on I played Black Jack and another poker game regularly... paid him back, decided I wanted to study psychology, contacted my therapist again, he got me into the university, and I pretty much worked my way 'up' from there to where I am now. I broke up with my 'benefactor' half a year ago, because he was cheating on his wife with me... probably had other lovers as well..."

Ron finally managed to get his focus back on his paper. He occasionally made 'listening sounds' even though he had no idea what the other said. He did now know that his men had broken personal possessions in personal residences on that particular mission... He put the scroll the 'check later' pile, and got a new one out of Mount Neverrest. This was written by Harry before they knew he had broken down... Ron could tell by how the excessively big letters were placed haphazardly on the parchment. It read:

_'Strong suspicions Malfoy has cast imperio on Ginny to spy on me and try to convince me to stop my investigation but I KNOW. Ought to keep an eye on McLaggen, he may have switched sides.  
>Also maybe Malfoy isn't trying to take over the wizarding world for the sake of it: perhaps he is carrying an overlooked remainder of Voldemort in him and he is as helpless as Ginny. It is up to me to save them and the rest of the wizarding world before thing get out of hand.'<em>

A twinge in Ron's heart.

Things had got out of hand with Harry the moment he had been promoted to President of the Auror Department. The promotion had happened so soon it had cast out all remaining sanity from Harry's brain, though many people suspected Harry had lost the plot years before when he was 'just' an Auror. The Boy Who Lived, who had saved them all years ago, had undermined Auror's work, used people for his personal missions against the Dark Side without debriefing them, and mistrusted even -or _especially_- his own shadow. It had eventually been Ron, his best friend and right hand man, who found the hidden office Harry had made. In there were mountains of scrolls containing important Ministry documents, mission briefings, lists of suspects of magical crimes, Ginny's shopping lists, notes concerning Ministry officials' reliability, his children's report cards, cuttings from the Daily Prophet mentioning arbitrary cases and a ton of other things, all written on, 'sorted', stockpiled and hidden by Harry.

He put this scroll in the basket with other material concerning Harry's breakdown, and got the next paper off the pile:

_'Harry,  
>I love you.<br>Don't panic when you see this note, I slipped this in your lunch when I prepared it for you because I need you to know but you won't listen:  
>Stop interrogating me whenever I do as much as use the bathroom. Your house searches are starting the scare the children. Our house was safe when we moved in, and you NOR I have given anything a chance to change that.<br>Voldemort is long dead. You killed him.  
>Draco Malfoy is just a man trying to live his life. Let him be.<br>Have a good day at work.  
>Again: I love you.<em>

_Ginny._

_p.s. Honestly; If I were a death eater you would have known by now.'_

Ron felt bad for his sister... she was a tough cookie all right; she stuck with Harry through all these years of horror, and still she was able to say she loved him. The scribbles Harry had added made anger roar up inside of him though, anger that nearly instantly made way for defeat:

'_Malfoy laying low - avoiding suspicion – __suspicious__. Ginny defends him - adultery?_'

Ron shook his head and put it in the basket. The next scroll was a report concerning a case he himself had written years ago. There was nothing odd about it Ron could discover, except that the names of the suspects had been circled and diagonally, crammed in between the lines of his own writing, Harry's writing said '_neoDE?_'

Into the basket...

Quite suddenly Ron realised it was quiet.

"Hm...?" he tried carefully, feeling very caught. Suddenly, in a flash of mind that made everything fall into place, he said: "I'm sorry, I was just imagining what that must have been like for you. Sounds like you had a rough patch there..."

Another moment of silence. Ron wondered if perhaps the boy had told him he'd be right back and he had just missed it.

Just when he was going to settle for that explanation though, the other spoke again;

"Don't worry... I understand that you're busy. I'm sorry for distracting you... "

The voice was so obviously under strain it broke Ron's heart to hear it.

"No, you didn't distract me. I was really thinking it must have been really hard for you... but I fell into thinking of that when you mentioned your ex."

Brilliant – Scorpius couldn't possibly know that was a total lie. It seemed likely enough, especially considering the reason the boy was talking to him in the first place.

"My ex was a cheater... And I never loved him. I always thought I did until now I've got something to compare the feelings I had then to. Looking back, I think I was just incredibly grateful to him and I was lonely enough to settle for anybody." That response sounded vicious; Ron thought he saw his chances of a one off with this handsome guy fly right out the window... but then the boy added; "There is absolutely no way he could compete with you."

Instantly blood rose to Ron's cheeks, and he struggled internally to get his focus back on the paper. He mumbled something that sounded like thanks, but the boy didn't seem to hear them because he said; "You know... if there is _any_thing you want of me..."

Ron looked up at his monitor as if he could lock eyes with the boy's there.

Was he really steering the conversation to where he thought he was steering it?

"...feel free to ask." the boy finished after a few seconds.

Ron cleared his throat awkwardly, then nodded. His mouth had gone a bit dry. There was no mistaking the boy's intentions now, was there? He was definitely suggesting what he thought he was suggesting – he had to be. He scooted in his seat awkwardly for a moment, then gathered the courage to respond: "I'll keep that in mind, thank you... " he hoped that sounded confident enough.

He really would have liked to take the offer, but considering he was at work now he couldn't just accept, could he? Plus; what would he ask? 'Come over here and suck my dick?' Hell no, he was better off waiting for an opportunity that was a bit less heads on.

"I didn't mean to get things awkward, I just want you to know. Okay? Anything you want." The boy sounded a bit pushy indeed, but considering the content of his message it was all right. Ron smiled. "Yeah I hear you, thanks. I'm at work though, people could hear..." he added in a would-be confidential tone, hoping that would end the topic for now. Just then Ron's gaze hit the clock.

"You _could _write it in the message window... this is MSN after all." the boy said, but Ron no longer paid attention; "I'm so sorry, I've got to go! I've got a class to teach!"

Absolute silence came in response. Then: "...at 10.30?"

"Yeah, I'm sorry, I need to go, I'm late, bye!" Ron shut down his laptop by closing it, then ran to get to the fields. The first year aurors in training were having an unexpected night fitness test, and Ron was one of the supervisors. When he reached the damp chilly field the training was held on, McLaggen was already there. "You're late, old man," was Cormac's greeting to him, despite Cormac being a year older than him. Ron responded with silence and mocked grumpiness, gazing over the 200 or so young men doing push-ups. When he saw Cormac had told them to keep their wands between their teeth, making the task far more delicate and risking Damage of Personal Items if they didn't execute it properly, he couldn't help but grin. In his own years of training he had had to get his wand replaced twice because he bit through it during a similar exercise. Being a teacher and supervisor now made up for all that. Scolding and motivating his students made him feel sadistically comfortable, powerful and important, so for the remainder of his working hours he was focussed on the task at hand.

Feeling abandoned, lonely, and defeated, Scorpius shut down his computer too. This conversation had not been as happy and light-hearted as the previous one had been, and he knew as well that sharing this much heavy personal information could very easily scare people off. Even though Ron had asked for it, it was obvious he, Scorpius, had gone too far. That man would never talk to him again. Abandoning his suicide plans had been overly optimistic. Telling Alfred he was going to see him again had been a mistake. Fuck, how was he going to let him know he reverted his plans? Should he even bother? Perhaps becoming an unidentifiable mutilated corpse was a better way to go. Distraught he put on the television and sat down to watch it, unaware of what he was looking at. That night he finished a bottle of wine and half his flatmate's rum, slashed the wine bottle and cut open his left upper arm with it before passing out drunk and bleeding right next to his bed.

When Ron finally returned home that night he first took a shower. In there he thought about Scorpius on his sluttiest behaviour, covered in filth and wearing the shortest jeans imaginable. He'd beg for money, food, and go down on random strangers in back alleys and doorways. As he'd gather the money he'd swipe the cum from the corner of his mouth. Shyly he would thank his benefactors, scared for their eyes to meet his and oh, so humiliated...When Ron went to sleep in his unmade and cold bed later, the image was still with him. It granted him the sweetest dreams he'd had in a long time, keeping him warm and comfortable throughout the lonely night.


	4. Chapter 3

Someone was hitting the door. Not knocking on it: hitting it with the side of their fist: "Hey! HEY!" It was obvious from the sound of the voice that this was Laurence. Then the same voice, aimed at someone else; "What's his name again?" Another male voice, left of the hitter responded; "S-imon..? Scorpion..., no, er... Sc-...? Just go for Simon, whatever." That was Blake.  
>"Oy <em>SIMON!<em>!" A final loud bang. "NEXT TIME YOU DRINK MY SHIT I'LL TRASH YOUR ROOM! Is he even in there?"  
>"There's a blood trail going there, maybe he's hurt or something."<br>"He's always 'hurt' though, i'n' he? He said he wouldn't 'bother us' with his shit but I'm getting very fucking tired of it," A brief moment of silence, "And there's not _that_ much blood, when it was more he was also fine." Laurence's voice almost sounded slightly worried now, and Scorpius heard it but felt too hollow to care. Not only did Ron want to have nothing to do with him anymore, he was hungover, his arm hurt, and his room mates hated him too. Why bother responding? It wasn't going to make a difference.

At two in the afternoon Ron finally found the time to sit in his office and turn on the computer. He was grateful for that, because if there was one thing he really felt like doing, it was talking to mr. Prettyface McDesperate through it. Unfortunately enough, said object of desire wasn't online. Pity! All he'd really been thinking of since their last conversation was him, and he had been looking forward to telling him about it! Perhaps even pick a date to meet in the flesh... what a delicious expression that was. In anticipation, he figured he might leave him an offline message. It took him a full minute to come up with; 'w_aiting for you to get online'_ plus a smiley face.

That seemed decent, now the boy had to be there and they could arrange to meet. Perfect.

Unfortunately enough for Ron it took until seven for the boy to show a sign of life and when he did, it wasn't even a very enthused sign: '_...still?_'

Ron, who was caught up in Mt. Paperwork and reading about Ginny's pregnant belly reminding Harry of Voldemort Reincarnated, didn't see the message until fifteen minutes later. Reading the shit Harry wrote in his 'breakdown time' really got to him, and he needed a lot of angry bites of take-out pizza to get him calm again. Thankfully Cormac was in the room with him, patting is shoulder as he got a slice of his own.  
>'<em>Yes1 lemme finish this then we can talk<em>' Ron wrote. The boy responded with a smiley face, and a few minutes later they were speaking again.

"Hello," Ron said, sounding more enthused than last time. This wasn't so strange, because right now he wasn't in the middle of something like he had been then. "Hey..." the boy said, sounding dreamy, "How are you Ron?" Ron decided not to let this funny tone get to him. The boy was a student, right? Maybe he was just high or something. He didn't want to have to worry about it;"Good! Thank you, moved a dragonload of paperwork today and I've been thinking about _you_ last night." It was quiet in response for a while. Then: "Really?"  
>"Yeah! After supervising last night all I could do was think about you," Ron said in a tone he hopedwas more flirty than creepy. It was silent for a few seconds and then there was a gulp audible, so Ron asked "Are you okay?"<br>"Uhm...,-" something like a sigh "-I er... I thought you didn't like me. I'm all right! I just didn't think-... after you left so suddenly last night I thought-... The whole Borderline thing I told you about? I had a bit of an episode... Didn't think you and I'd talk again, didn't think it was fair of me to bother you to begin with, didn't think I should have gotten my hopes up like I did... You know?... But I'm okay, I am." he cleared his throat. "I'm sorry."  
>Right. What was Ron supposed to say to that? "...but you're okay?" he tried, and got the confirming guttural sound in return followed by words; "Yes, I am." a brief pause, "Thank you."<br>"Good." Now this conversation was not nearly what Ron had hoped it would be. 'A bit of an episode'? What the hell did that mean? Was there any chance the flirty chit chat he was hoping for was still going to happen? Perhaps he should just go along with it, see how this ended... After all, he had nothing to lose. "So er... -" Before he had a chance to finish his sentence, despite his ignorance as to what it was going to be, Ron was interrupted. "So you said you moved a lot of work today? What did you do?" The boy sounded happy again – not like he had sounded particularly upset before, but he sounded like he was smiling now. "Paperwork, I told you." Ron couldn't help but sound slightly impatient. Just slightly, as if he told a child to stop doing the annoying thing they were doing. Scorpius seemed oblivious, and his response sounded cheerful: "I meant what _kind_ of paperwork. You're not making papier-mâché sculptures, are you?" Ron had no ideas what 'pepyay-mashay' was, but he chuckled in response nonetheless. "No sculptures for me. No; just forms, files and folders that need sorting. All of them confidential."  
>"Ahhh..." the boy exclaimed, and Ron imagined he nodded. "And you do that all day long?"<p>

"I do, yeah." Ron responded without too much enthusiasm. Honestly; if he wanted to talk about work he would be talking to one of his guys right now. "Did you intend to be alliterate?" the boy then asked, much to Ron's surprise. "Excuse me?" That downright pissed him off. How in the Hell was his response in any way 'meant to be illiterate'?  
>"Alliterate! You said 'forms, files and folders', that's beautiful alliteration, and if that's unintentional it's all the more so."<br>Oh.  
>Right.<br>Ron felt like a total idiot now, and this conversation was not at all what he had hoped it would be. Might as well go in for the catch there and then. "Would you like to meet up with me?" He almost sounded as if he had been commanded to ask the question, and he realised this when the boy took a few seconds to respond.  
>"Ah-... I would love to...," came the choked-up response. Before Ron could ask the boy yet again if he was all right, he continued; "Here's me, thinking I blew my chances and then you go right ahead and- ... I would <em>love <em>to meet you Ron, I would do nothing rather than that." Scorpius wiped some tears off his face and tried not to hiccup or heave into the microphone. He realised Ronald had not sounded enthused at all when suggesting to meet, but he couldn't get himself to care about such a detail. What he cared about was meeting Ron, being able to touch him, see him directly and smell him and make him smile or at least _relax_. The man worked hard, didn't he? And if he, Scorpius, could do anything to lighten his load he would be more than happy – even _proud_- to do so. Maybe Ron just wanted him for sex... that would be fine, too. It would still involve meeting Ron and being close to him, plus it would definitely please him. The tears kept coming; he now realised they were tears of disbelief and he chuckled a bit at that. "I can't quite believe it... I'm sorry, I don't mean to cry, I'm not _sad_, just- You know what?" Scorpius smiled and shook his head.  
>"What?"<br>"In the brief time you and I have known each other, you have made me happier than I've been in years." He nodded to himself some more, absent-mindedly stroking the 17-hour-old cuts on his left arm. "...I hope I will be able to do the same for you."

* * *

><p>That same evening the boy slurped his spaghetti with a broad smile on his face, staring right into Ron's eyes. Ron felt nervous as he watched him, not sure how to handle the situation. Of course he had had many bed partners in his house but never sober... and definitely never <em>male<em>. But there he was, and he wondered how on earth he was going to get this boy into bed... should he get him drunk first?  
>"This pasta. is. <em>amazing<em>." the boy said, licking some sauce off his lower lip, "I didn't know you could cook!" Ron smiled awkwardly in response.  
>"Why are you so quiet? Am I talking too much?" the boy then asked with a smile. "or have you changed your mind about even having me here? I sure hope not but it could be..." the smile faded instantly and Ron wondered how in the world he was supposed to respond. "I mean – I told you I'd do everything, and I'm sorry if I talk too much, I'm a little nervous. I haven't been eating properly and you give me this amazing meal and it's <em>so<em> nice being here, and then I'm rambling and you're sitting there quietly and I wonder what I should do, you know?" Scorpius quickly took another bite of food and Ron opened his mouth to at least attempt to answer one of these questions, but before he could the boy had continued to talk: "I know I'm being a pain... I'm just nervous. And I'll be quiet now!" And just like that, the talking was over. Ron stared at him in amazement for a few seconds, then slowly shook his head. "...you're crazy," he said then, making the boy grin. "Usually when I have people over they're either long time friends, or women I've picked up in a club... Not people who have a random crush on me-..." "..._and _a personality disorder." the boy added helpfully. Ron wasn't sure how to interpret that, so he decided to ignore it. "...nor children of former classmates," he finished, realising instantly that that was a touchy subject. "Well, since he decided he wants to have nothing to do with me, I think we can drop that classification," Scorpius said with a smile, "And I'm not going to sit here and call you 'Rose's dad' either, am I?"  
>"Ye- no, that might be a bit awkward..." Ron said carefully, quickly taking a bite from his spaghetti. "Yeah, it'd just emphasise the negative, and we don't want that-...<em> Look<em>! I'm not making you happy by talking, am I? Nor am I with my heritage or whatever it is that's going on in my mind because I know that's all shit. The best thing we can do now..." the boy got off his chair and walked towards Ron "...is make sure you get what you want out of me being here. How about that?"  
>Scorpius straddled Ron. Just like that. The man was looking up at him with a mixture of surprise, shock, and a certain seriousness in his eyes. "...do you really think I asked you over for sex alone?" he asked, and Scorpius' heart melted as he looked into those pretty blue eyes. With his thumb he removed a bit of pasta sauce from the corner of the man's mouth, and then he shook his head. "No, I don't," he said truthfully as he sat a bit more comfortably. The edge of the table forced his upper body to be very close to Ron's and he loved it. "...I'm just-... nervous. I'm sorry."<br>Ron appeared to accept this explanation and he shifted slightly in his seat, for as far as that was possible now. "You are _such_ a good person, Ron, and I want to make you happy... and I saw I wasn't doing a good job from across the table, you know?" He was speaking calmly now and Ron nodded in response. It was already going much better. Was that because they were physically touching each other now? "I'm not sure if this _is _ better-..." he let his voice trail off when Ron nodded and he smiled.  
>"...maybe we should chat like this a bit," Ron suggested in a final attempt to appear to be a gentleman, "Now we're both calm."<br>The boy shook his head. Next thing they knew they were kissing.

"Hey!" Ron said into the microphone the following evening, "You didn't have to clean up, you silly boy." Scorpius pasted on a big fake grin at those words. After the sex the previous night he had cleared the floor and table of the remainders of pasta and plates... and then he had left. "You were sleeping, I didn't have anything else to do," he responded. He had desperately hoped that Ron would have asked him why he left and then told him there had been no need to... but Ron's not-mentioning it had just proven to him that it had been the correct course of action and that gloomed over his mood. The fake smile made sure Ron couldn't tell he was upset by his tone. The silence between them lasted a few seconds during which Scorpius could hear the rustling of paper. "...you weren't tired?" Ron asked then, and despite the distracted tone of the question Scorpius' heart leapt in response, "Eh, well; a little, but I was still all revved up because of you so I couldn't just lay down and relax. Plus, I didn't want to wake you or startle you or anything annnd..." he took a deep breath "...I wasn't sure if you'd still appreciate my company in the morning."  
>That made Ron chuckle, which made Scorpius smile, but that smile turned to stone when Ron said: "It's a one <em>night <em>stand, not a one evening stand."  
>"...so... that includes mornings?" the boy managed after a few seconds in which he struggled to maintain his composure. Ron was oblivious of the dark tone in the question, for an affirmative guttural sound came in response. With that, Scorpius' composure was gone. "How <em>generous<em> of you! You knew _exactly_ what I was in for! And you _said_ you weren't in it for sex alone! You know what, Ron? I don't mind being used for sex, I do not, I would have _gladly _done more than undress and suck your cock _without _your empty promises, but you made me believe that you _liked_me, that you cared!"

Ron nearly fell off his chair in surprise. The words that were shouted at him first hadn't processed yet before the next load of them came: "You _know _I have no one, I _told _you-...! You know what? _Forget_ it! I don't even care any more. You're a selfish old man whose only concern is his own satisfaction and I don't _give_a fuck. Want to meet up again or should I just kill myself?"

* * *

><p>"...so I said we'd meet." Ron concluded, staring at his bottle of beer as if it was his conversation partner, "...it did seem to good to be true." he added in an exasperated sigh. By now a good hour had passed since the incredibly awkward conversation with the strange boy and Ron had asked Cormac to join him to their favourite pub. "It's a teenage thing," McLaggen responded without looking up from his phone, "Not all teens do it, but the ones that do don't even realise what they're saying." The two of them were sitting in the corner benches and Ron was downright miserable. Cormac, however, appeared to be perfectly happy; "They phrase it poorly, like you know, the first heart break seems like the end of the world? And you were being a cock to tell him it was a one night stand when you know he wants more."<br>Ron made his 'fair enough' gesture and sipped his drink while following Cormac's gaze to the bar. They could see people's backs from here, two people moving to the music on their barstools. Ron knew his friend was trying to select at least one of these people to have sex with. Preferably someone with something quirky about them so it wouldn't be 'boring'... The world wasn't fair.  
>"Did I mention this is Scorpius Malfoy?" he asked, guessing McLaggen would select the slightly chubby lady with the burlesque-inspired hairpin.<br>That remark got Cormac's full attention. "Aw man... " he said after a second of looking at Ron, "That's just-... aw. Don't do it." Ron just looked back at him, hoping for an elaboration. He knew Cormac and Draco had been friends for at least as long as he himself had been divorced (which he mainly remembered because he rang Cormac for company one day shortly after Hermione and him decided to live apart, and Cormac had been too occupied with Malfoy to be there for him).  
>"Well, it's obvious that that boy is insane. He's been nearly suspended from Hogwarts twice, and the second time he tried to let him stay by threatening to jump off his broomstick. Didn't want his parents to be disappointed." A meaningful pause. "When Lucius died the boy told Draco <em>he<em> should have died instead. He got on well with his grandfather, see."  
>Ah. Lucius Malfoy had died at about the same time as Hermione and Ron had split up... Suddenly he forgave Cormac even more for not having the time for him back then. Imagining Hugo or Rose telling him he should die instead of his father would gut him, too. "Draco always thought the boy would get himself killed somehow and that he couldn't figure out what he wanted to be later added to that, and that made him and Asteria think he couldn't be bothered anyway. So when Hogwarts was over and he was still alive, Draco figures it's best to say goodbye now than be helpless when they'd scoop him off the floor. Hasn't seen him since but knows he's alive, says 'it's better that way.' Touchy subject."<br>A few seconds passed and their gazes turned ahead to the bar. A short Asian lady in an emerald dress had entered and was talking to the lady with the burlesque-y hairpin.  
>When lip-reading their conversation failed Ron asked: "So this is no teenage angst?"<br>Cormac took a final sip of his beer. "Nope, this is the real deal..." he said, before making his way to the ladies.

Ron witnessed him talk to them, making them laugh somehow and quite rapidly putting an arm around both of them. Two beautiful ladies in one go.  
>And all he could get was a suicidal outcast.<p>

* * *

><p>"...hey." Scorpius said when Ron opened the door for him. "I wanted to apologise for my behaviour... I know I was out of line blackmailing you like that and I'm sorry." The boy was looking down at his feet and looked genuinely miserable. His eyes were slightly swollen and he hadn't shaved since they last met two days before. Ron stepped aside and opened the door wider to let him in. "...I was being a bit of an ass," he responded when the boy looked up at him. He got a careful smile in response when the boy shyly slouched in. Ron closed the door behind him, but before he had even let go of the thing Scorpius hugged him. "You weren't, you were great and I should have thought before acting." The boy ended the hug and kept his hands on Ron's upper arms. Then he leaned in again to kiss him.<br>Ron had had no idea what to expect from this visit. Cormac's negative had gotten him worried and made him consider blowing off contact with Scorpius all together, but now he was here and seemed so soft and sorry, it was difficult to imagine doing that. Cormac was one to talk, really... he could bed anybody. His hair turning grey actually made him look _more_ attractive, a feature Ron envied greatly. Of course he knew Cormac had severe bonding issues, but that just didn't seem so bad compared to the rarely-getting-laid issue he suffered from himself.

After Ron got the both of them a beer and they were settled on the sofa, Ron realised he had no desire at all to get the boy out of his clothes now. He wasn't certain if that was because of the boy's apparent mental instability or because of something about himself. Regardless, they settled for chatting.  
>"I know I go too far sometimes, trying to get people to 'keep' me. One of the possible symptoms actually <em>is<em> 'desperately attempting to prevent real or imagined abandonment'. But even though I know that, in that moment it just seems right for me to do so, it's not until afterwards that I think and go; hey, maybe I'm being mental again and I should chill out. It's not like I decide to go over the top."  
>Ron nodded in response. The boy sounded calm and fully reasonable now... but it started to annoy Ron that all he could talk about was himself and what he was thinking.<br>"Do you go clubbing?" he asked, that same moment realising that changing the subject like that might appear insensitive. Thankfully the boy didn't seem offended; "I've gone twice maybe, it's not really my cuppa. Can I ask you something?"  
>Ron shrugged in response.<br>"Do you think you and I have a chance together?" Scorpius' felt the butterflies in his abdomen do cartwheels or something again, and hoped that Ron couldn't tell just how important the answer to this question was to him. He didn't want to pressure the man... he just didn't see another way to find out.

"I don't know."  
>Scorpius waited for a few seconds, wondering if that was all. Apparently it was, and for a moment he was offended by it, for it really sounded like Ron couldn't be arsed to make the effort to think about it. Before he could respond though Ron asked him a question, one that told Scorpius more than the man probably knew. "Why do you even like me?"<br>Someone with a lot of confidence wouldn't have asked the question this way, they would have asked 'what do you like about me' or even 'why do you like me'. Not 'why do you _even_ like me', for that made it seem like 'liking Ron' was a ridiculous thing to do.  
>"I told you that I saw you walking that day, didn't I? There was one man on either side of you, I saw your back and I just <em>knew<em>... From then on I've looked up information about you in newspapers, I looked you up on the internet... I liked what I read. And then we spoke and I found out that you have a sexy voice and that you're an even better man than I thought. You're handsome, courageous, sensitive, masculine, responsible, tasty... But I doubt you need me to tell you any of that," he said slowly, enjoying how crimson Ron's face was now. Scorpius knew that what he was about to do was risky- it was likely to come back to haunt him and make him regret anything he'd done since he had seen Ron. But he also knew that it was bound to be effective, and that was all he cared about now. He wanted to bind this man to him, to make him want him, and knowing Ron had low confidence offered him an option he would have not resorted to otherwise. "I can tell you something you don't know, though..."  
>Ron who had shyly wondered whether it was appropriate to grin to being complimented like this, now looked Scorpius in the eyes again.<br>"That day I saw you walking...?" the latter continued, sounding diffident now. His hesitation was genuine because he knew he was manipulating the other into feeling responsible for him and he _knew_ that that was a bad thing to do...  
>"I was on my way to get what I needed..."<br>Too late to stop now though...  
>"...to hang myself."<br>Tears welled up in his eyes and he wasn't sure if that was because of what he said or because he had said it. Uncertainly he picked at his fingernails, staring at them without seeing them and wondering how Ron would respond. He hadn't felt this guilty in a few weeks at least. No response came and he was afraid to look up so he spoke on, hoping Ron would tell him to shut up:  
>"I had attempted it before but failed, differently maybe but-... I don't always try hanging, but I thought perhaps if I combined different methods I'd succeed. Somehow I 'escape' after I've passed out, I think it's because of my magic – keeps me from-...succeeding. I was going to get a variety of these pills Muggles use against headaches, hoping they would make me pass out or at least make me throw up if I'd take too many so I could choke in my vomit after passing out, I was going to get new razors so I could be certain they're sharp and the cuts would heal poorly... Ragged cuts heal best, don't know if you ever noticed that; anyway, I also needed this plastic-like rope Muggles use for their washing lines, and I was going to put soap on my hands and feet so I couldn't get a grip on the rope or on the floor again in case that was what 'saved' me last time... I had all this in mind and I saw it clearly, I'd said goodbye to my therapist already, I knew what pipe I was going to hang from and everything and then I saw you and I knew that I was <em>wrong<em>." Tears were streaming down his face now, and his thumbnail had torn into his flesh. "That I had to be there for you and make you happy."

The sobbing started but despite that, Scorpius managed a quaky little smile and Ron mirrored it. He felt a bit like he did when he saw bodies on crime scenes when he looked at him, and he wasn't sure of anything anymore. His eyes were all watered up, too – the boy had been right to call him sensitive. "...I'm glad you didn't go through with it." He took a thoughtful sip of his drink, and then figured he should ask this or he would wonder about it forever: "...so when you said you'd kill yourself if we wouldn't meet up again – ...?"  
>The boy nodded, and wiped his tears away with a flat hand. "I'm so sorry," he managed in a choked up voice, and when they hugged Ron's shoulder got entirely soaked.<p> 


	5. Chapter 4

**I want to give a quick shoutout to burrowburrow, for being an amazingly inspirational reviewer. Without you, this chapter would not have been published nearly this 'soon'. Thankyous~**

When Scorpius was quiet he was good company. It was now possible for them to be comfortably huddled together on the sofa, drinks in hand and eyes on the telly. This was exactly what Ron had been looking for with Hermione – and after their marriage had dried up, too. The comfort of being together without trying to change each other. They rarely spoke – what was there to say? But when they did, it was done without judgement, without interrupting, and without attempting to gain anything by it. This power free communication was new to Ron and he really enjoyed it.  
>It had even affected his behaviour at work: he felt he was better now, better at doing whatever he was doing by knowing someone cared for him enough to <em>live<em> for him.  
>A week passed and in this time Ron felt like he was a new man. Coming home after work wasn't as dreadful now he knew he wasn't forced to be alone anymore, and when he was at work he felt charged, like he could take on whatever was thrown at him. When he was down or demotivated he would talk to Scorpius, get some compliments, and he would feel good about himself again. Being home wasn't lonely anymore, <em>enjoying <em>meals hadn't happened in too long, neither of them knew how to cook which made it all the more fun, and they even shared a preference for television shows. Sleeping together with someone who didn't complain about snores or farts was the best thing in the world, waking up to eggs and bacon with a cup of coffee was better yet. Physically there were no complaints either, for Scorpius was curious about being on the receiving end of anal sex and Ron was more of a 'giver'. Also the boy liked Ron's stubble, claimed to _prefer_ abs with fleshy coating, never complained about the toilet seat, about dust, dirt, or anything at all and was always happy to see him. Just one week, and Ron already wondered how he could have ever done without him.

A few days later things were started to change a bit. Scorpius wanted to talk to Ron even when Ron didn't want to talk to him, insisted to know where Ron was going when he 'brb'ed him, asked him who he was with, what he was doing, in short: started to be a distraction rather than a motivation. But Ron couldn't tell him that, could he? Scorpius seemed so happy when they spoke, he didn't want to ruin that. Plus, he felt like a real man with this boy at his side...surely that was worth it.  
>There was a day when Ron gathered the courage to 'confront' the boy, and ask him whether he was going to go to his student apartment again any time soon. But the big puppy eyes and choked up voice that followed made Ron realise that no, Scorpius was not going to be staying elsewhere any time soon.<p>

In week three though, Ron regretted thoroughly that he had ever asked the boy if he would be leaving. It was as if Scorpius was even more intent on staying with him now: every second he got to spend at home came with Scorpius included, and he hadn't had a single day where he hadn't been asked when he was doing what with whom and maybe-jokingly being asked whether they were better company than Scorpius was. Ron was getting very, very tired of it. He'd hardly gotten any work done recently for all the nonsensical chitchat on the computer, and when he'd shut down and blame it on a power cut the boy would just phone him to distract him some more. But what could he do? Tell Scorpius? He might kill himself on the spot. Tell Harry perhaps? St. Mungo's staff had expressly forbidden to burden him in any way. Cormac? Ron had no need for 'I told you so's... And he hadn't felt this isolated in his life.

A month in, and Ron couldn't help but be short with Scorpius. He'd neglect to respond to him for hours on end and claim MSN hadn't notified him of a new message, shut down his phone while lying it was on, and became increasingly hesitant to go home when his shift was over. When he then finally _did_ come home he would often find the boy right outside, behaving as if they hadn't seen eachother in months. On top of all this, Ron started to wonder just how honest the boy was being about his preferences, for he never mentioned any himself. He would only agree with what Ron said he preferred. In fact, all the words he uttered were to compliment Ron or agree with him, and he seemed to have no initiative of any sort other than to serve. On top of that it had occurred a few times now that Ron woke up in the middle of the night and found the boy surrounded by food wrappings and beer bottles, watching poker on television.

Tuesday, week five, and Ron was absolutely done with it. This was the fifteenth time the boy rang his phone since they said their goodbyes this morning, and it was barely even noon. Twice it had gone off during the _Knowledge Refreshment – Dealing with Muggles_ workshop Ron was hosting. Seven times he had hung up instantly, a few times he had said 'not now', and once he had told him he was '_working_!' Couldn't Scorpius take a hint?  
>"<em>What<em> do you want?!" he said as he picked up, instantly feeling a great number of eyes on him. He had forgotten for a moment he was in the Atrium of the Ministry of Magic. For a few seconds it was quiet at the other end, and Ron wondered if it had even been Scorpius to phone him. Turned out it was, but before Ron could put the phone back to his ear, the boy had hung up. He increased his pace as he tried to call again, but there was no answer.

The boy wasn't online, either. Cormac, whose greeting he had just ignored and Eli, who was still holding out a coffee for him, were looking at him strangely.  
>"...thanks." Ron said, as he took the drink from her, eyes still on the monitor.<br>"Debrief me?" Cormac tried, standing right next to him and looking at the screen as if it was his pride and joy misbehaving, "And it's not nothing."  
>Promptly Ron sat down on his desk chair and tried restarting the laptop, wondering if that would make a difference, "Scorpius is acting strange," he said as Windows asked him for a password. Cormac took a deep breath. "The one I told you not to do?"<br>Ron nodded in response. "He just stopped calling... I'll just see if he's all right..."  
>He was trying to call the boy again now while at the same time trying to log into the messenger programme. Scorpius hadn't blackmailed him like he did that one time – he hadn't said a thing. And usually he didn't call <em>this<em> often, did he? Fifteen times... perhaps there was something really wrong. Something serious, and personal, and Ron had ignored him and now he was getting ready to hang himself like he had described and nobody would find him until he began to rot and stink and – …  
>"General, get yourself together, it's time for real life action. Where could he be?" Ron recognised what Cormac said as an attempt to get him out of a shock. But he wasn't in shock! Just worried. Very, very worried... "You don't get to command me, Lieutenant," he said in half an attempt to be funny. "He might be at my place."<p>

Cormac was at the building entrance, Ron was checking the entrance to his apartment. There was nobody here... but Scorpius' smashed phone was lying on the floor next to the door. It's final noises died away as Ron stopped trying to call him. Shit. So where to next? He didn't know where the boy's apartment was, or his university, or any other place that he might have gone to now. Was he even still alive? Well, if he was, he was going to get his cellphone back. Ron cast _Reparo_ on it, and watched it come back together.  
>Official policy told him to do a quick round and then move closer to Cormac, checking every storey in between... but he didn't want to come down to Cormac. Let him come up, whatever. He wanted to get a beer, and then another, and another, six more, and then perhaps listen to a Quidditch game.<br>He entered his apartment and sat down on his sofa, elbows on his knees, hands in his face. All that was left to do now was to wait for Cormac to have a beer with him. Let the Police cut that boy down from his 'pipe'.

"I've found you something," Cormac said after a few seconds of waiting for Ron to spot him, removing his hand from Scorpius' shoulder. "He was outside."  
>Ron looked up at the boy who slowly approached and sat down next to him. "...I left my medication here," Scorpius said, looking at the coffee table. "Alfred said I should take it a.s.a.p. I'm sorry I agitated you." His tone was flat, but Ron was still staring.<p>

This was something Cormac could not comprehend, no matter how hard he tried: there were so many people out there who wanted to live. So incredibly many. And all of them worked as hard as they could to make it through another day, just to die of causes they couldn't help, like poverty or AIDS. And then there were people like Scorpius, who wanted to die because... Because what? He had a good background, his parents loved him, he looked good?  
>He would have loved to tell the boy something when they ascended the stairs. Some advice maybe, that he should appreciate what he has, or that he should realise his dad and Ron cared even though their lives didn't evolve around him... – something like that. But he couldn't do it. If the boy would have topped himself tonight because of this 'advice', Cormac would have had a <em>lot<em> of explaining to do to his two best mates.  
>"I didn't want to make you angry," Scorpius said, and Ron embraced him.<br>"I'm not angry," Cormac heard Ron say. He added something, but Cormac didn't want to hear it.

"I haven't been taking them for a while," Scorpius said, getting one of the 20mg capsules from the bottle. If he wouldn't have been in a 'whim' right now he'd be more reluctant to say this. "One of the side effects is impotence, and I wanted to make a good impression on you. I told Alfred this morning that I haven't been taking them for nearly two months now, and he told me to start again today like I normally would. But closely monitored; he wants me to check in weekly and tell him when I'm off. I'd already locked myself out of your apartment so I called." He couldn't read Ron's face now, but he didn't mind. Nothing mattered. He reckoned the only way for him to feel better now was to cut himself until his brain woke up. Until then though, he was going to be here with Ron.  
>"What do you mean, 'off'?" Ron asked.<br>"This is a selective serotonin reuptake inhibitor - prevents certain brain stuff from being recycled so the happy lasts longer. But since I haven't taken them in a while and I quit taken them suddenly, it may do strange things to my behaviour. When it does, I need to call Alfred."  
>"Oh," Ron said in a nod, "So er. You weren't going to kill yourself when I-... picked up?"<br>Scorpius took his prozac and thought he deserved the bitter flavour of it right now.  
>"I've manipulating you into caring about that, Ron," he said, calmly holding the bottle on his lap. His body was aimed at nothing in particular, but Ron's was focussed on him. "I didn't lie. I would have done it, probably, fickle as I am. But I shouldn't have told you because now the only reason you bother with me is because you don't want to be my reason to die."<br>Ron didn't respond to that, but Scorpius could tell he'd tensed up.  
>"Again, I didn't lie. But I shouldn't have told you, and that I did makes me a terrible person." He turned his head towards the man, who was looking at him in something between disbelief, confusion, and anger.<br>"Feel free to punch me. I deserve it." His tone was still flat, his eyes still locked into Ron's.  
>"Aren't you mad at me?" he asked, just when Ron had opened his mouth to say something, an intense hate in him rising along with Ron's rising anger. "I really got you worried, didn't I? Wasted a lot of your time, got on your nerves... Oh I <em>know<em> I've been getting on your nerves lately... Don't you just want to hurt me? _I_'d want to hurt me... "

"I'm not going to hurt you..," Ron uttered under strain. He was quaking with anger that he couldn't quite justify. How was anything 'manipulating' when he hadn't lied? Was that even possible?! And where the fuck did that mental git get the illusion that he had such power over him?! The cheek to even suggest it– … Yes. He did want to punch him. But he would not. He peeked over his shoulder for a moment to get some moral support from Cormac, but apparently he had already gone. Great. Now he had to deal with this himself. "You hate me though, don't you? I'm here, all up in your shit, taking your privacy, your happiness, I'm a _leech_, Ron, and I _know_ it! Would you just _punish_ me?!"  
>"<em>YOU<em> need to _seriously_ think about what the fuck you just said to me, understood?! You're going to _stay_ here, and when I get back you act. the fuck. normal." Ron was shaking... he might end up actually hurting this boy... The Negotiation Tactics Course was difficult to apply to a personal situation.  
>Scorpius' malicious expression became angry: "You can't leave me now?!" Desperation dripped off his words, and now he seemed distraught: "What if I kill myself? I don't want to do that, I don't – But what if I can't help it? Please don't leave me Ron, don't leave me alone, don't go away, please take me with you, okay baby? I'll be good, I'll behave, I won't do a thing, I promise, I'll get you your coffee, I'll sit in a quietly, I won't do a thing. Please don't leave, <em>please...<em>"  
>The begging continued as the boy grabbed Ron's arms and tried to put them around him, making Ron hug him. Ron's shirt was getting wet with the tears and snot that came along with the words, but strangely enough that didn't bother him very much. What bothered him was that Cormac had been right. Anal sex was great, but this crap wasn't worth it.<p>

Being at the Auror Department was a strange new experience. Scorpius felt incredibly out of place, but somehow that calmed his nerves. Which was good, because his medication was kicking in. Ron cared enough to take him here! So this was where he spent all his working hours... There was a number of small working stations, containing a computer, a telephone, and a pyramid of scrolls each. Then they went through a door and found themselves in some sort of conference room, with a big plasma screen that showed a map of the United Kingdom with coloured dots in it. Scorpius spotted a portrait walking into it and becoming a small cloud of colour, much like the one he saw on his phone when he pressed the screen too hard. There was a number of men in the room, carrying parchment, wands, coffee (lots of coffee) and talking all at the same time. When Ron entered most of them hurried to greet him, and a few of them looked at Scorpius strangely. Cormac especially didn't seem happy to see him.  
>Ron and Scorpius then went through another door, and found themselves in what was apparently Ron's office. The first thing Scorpius noticed was the three-seat orange and yellow faded sofa in the centre of the room. Against the far wall was a desk with a laptop on it, and at the right was a table with chairs. "This is yours?" Scorpius asked as he entered properly, peeking behind the door to see what was at its left. No matter what he'd expected, it wasn't the irregular hole in the wall that lead to some sort of dimly lit wall of piled paper.<br>"Yeah... That's where Potter put the documents." Ron responded wearily, getting to his desk.  
>"Ah," Scorpius took place on the sofa behind him, and Ron reached for some parchment.<br>"I suppose I can't look at any of these?" the boy asked so carefully it got on Ron's nerves. He didn't want him to be here! But he didn't want to be responsible for the suicide of the son of the most notorious lawyer in the Wizarding World either, so he didn't have much of a choice.  
>Anyway: finally, <em>finally<em>, Ron could get to work. An ordinary office afternoon, save for the freak on the sofa behind him. Best to just get on with it. The first piece of parchment he was dealing with was a report of a raid his men had performed, random letters and words circled and crossed out. It looked as if Harry had been trying to crack a code. Now, if the outcome would have been '_shredder_', he might have been onto something. Ron wasn't even going to bother seeing if there was any meaning in it. The next piece of paper, however, chilled him to the bone. It was a drawing by one of Harry's kids. It depicted the Potter family, Ginny drawn biggest of all, holding Lily's hand. Either Albus or James was in the centre, the other one next to him. Harry was depicted as a dark figure at the far left. That wasn't what bothered Ron about the picture though... What did was Harry's writing, sometimes big, sometimes tiny, covering the entire scene:

'_Hello Hello? Hello. My name is Harry. I'm Harry. I'm Harry Potter. Hello. Hello my name is Harry. My name is Harry Potter. I am the boy-who-lived. I am the Boy Who Lived. I am the Boy Who Lives. I am alive and I have beaten you. Who's there? Who is there? Are you there? Are you Tom Riddle? Show me the scene. Show me your memory. You are the most powerful wizard of all time. I know you're there. I know you are there. Vole de mort: Flight from death. I know who you are. Respond. Reply. Talk to me. Write to me. I know it is you. Respond to me. We are not done. I know your soul remains. I am not commanding you. I am requesting. Asking. If you respond to me I will leave you alone. I will not fight you. Let me know it is you. Stop haunting me. You are everywhere. You won, I know it now. Speak to me. Communicate. I have bought a ouija board. There are no magical ones. Should I make one? Let me know. Please communicate. A sign.'_

Harry's writing became too small to read at the bottom of the paper, but Ron didn't want to read it anyway. Perhaps St. Mungo Staff would like this one, it might gain them some insight into Harry's madness. A bit shaken, he started a new pile for this purpose. That was the worst document he'd had to deal with so far... "Get me a coffee, please," he semi-commanded Scorpius, whom he heard get up and leave the room in response. He restrained himself from getting too upset over this drawing though, there was no point in doing so. Harry was getting better, this thing was years old. Besides: he didn't have the time. There were thousands of other documents to plough through.

Scorpius didn't know where to get coffee from in this building, and feeling as tired and anxious as he did wasn't helping. The room they had passed through earlier was now full of people whose sole purpose was to ignore him. He kept his head high as he passed through, not spotting a coffee machine from the periphery of his sight. People weren't staring at him for prolonged periods of time, but he could see them judge him. How could they not? He was wearing the Mugglest of clothes and he wasn't carrying a wand. He knew part of his current state of mind was prozac induced, but that didn't make it any less _his_... There was a sob in his throat that refused to budge no matter how often he swallowed, his mouth was dry, and the building seemed to stretch out in odd corridors, stairs, elevators and doors just to disorient him. How was he supposed to find his way? Ron didn't want him here, Scorpius knew that. The only reason Ron let him close was because Scorpius had made him. If he just hadn't been such a manipulative bitch he'd be able to put up with being 'condoned' like this. But now it felt like he had won by cheating; perhaps he should just leave, make Ron believe he was okay and find a quiet place to die. Be found years after he'd be recognisable by someone who'd put a video of him falling to pieces on bestgore dot com, and nobody would ever know what had happened to him apart from perhaps the insects that would have eaten his brain.  
>The thought of his own corpse soothed him for a moment, especially when he mentally focussed on the maggots in his eye sockets. It was such a bizarre and disturbing sight that it made him forget about the situation at hand. Would his parents put him in the family crypt? Or would he be found by Muggles and would nobody he ever cared for ever know? Perhaps only his bones would remain and he could be a dog's toy. He'd always wanted to have a dog. What would his epitaph be?<p>

MAGGOTS CARRY HIS MEMORY

No: this wasn't the time for planning ahead. He had to get Ron coffee. But Ron didn't care, Ron never cared, he just wanted a one-off and he'd had more so he was satiated and now Scorpius could go fuck himself. Perhaps when he'd get back to the office Ron would no longer be there. Or he'd wake up and find his life was a psychosomatic hallucination induced by his first suicide attempt. In reality he was 117 years old now. Life has passed him by, his parents have died of old age and he himself was too frail to live and too healthy to die. He ought to jump and find out.

Jump and find out.

Just... jump

He wasn't sure whether he felt relief or disappointment when he managed to pass the staircase without leaping. The realisation that he _had_ just considered it did wake him up a little, and his surroundings started to become more salient to him. Why were there so few people here? How far had he walked? He wasn't sure if he would find his way back to the Auror Department. Regardless, it was obvious by now that he wasn't going to find this coffee on his own. Thankfully there was a man standing in the corridor not far from him, looking through one of the windows that viewed an office. He was wearing a suit that could pass for Muggle, so at least this wasn't someone who'd judge him by his attire. "Excuse me?" Scorpius started, feeling his heart stop the moment the man turned to face him.

"Thanks," Ron said when Scorpius handed him his coffee. He didn't look up from the report he was reading – it was refreshing to read something written by someone in their right mind and he wanted to savour the moment. When he finished he slid it through the gap in the wall. It would land on Cormac's desk, who could file it away after he was done with whoever he was putting his business in. "What took you so long?" he asked right before he heard the scroll move in the magical slot and finding its location. Suddenly he noticed the coffee he was holding wasn't quite what he had expected.  
>"You got me Starbucks?" he said in a confused chuckle, turning to face Scorpius who was standing behind the sofa. The boy held one arm across his chest and was biting his fingernails. He nodded nervously.<br>"Yeah, couldn't find eh- coffee machine. Got lost." His eyes locked into Ron's for a second: "Met dad." He looked away again and turned away from Ron a bit, before reaching for the sofa as if he was trying to stop it from moving.  
>Ron didn't know what to say to this, so he said nothing.<br>"Maybe. I don't know. It can make me hallucinate, I'm not sure. Looked and sounded like him, I'm not sure. I don't– " While Scorpius spoke he was still biting his nails, and he interrupted himself when he managed to tear his thumbnail in half. He parted his lips and looked at the digit in complete silence, watching the red droplets well up and drip down his hand. Then he took a deep breath and closed his eyes. "Prozac can cause hallucinations. It's possible I saw a stranger and my brain made me believe it was him."  
>Ron slowly nodded in response, wondering if he should call a mediwitch.<br>The boy opened his eyes again: "My phone is …broken... and lost. Could I borrow yours? I'd just like to call Alfred, if you don't mind."  
>"Fixed it," Ron said with a polite smile as he handed the boy his own phone. Scorpius looked at it in amazement, and then his face cracked open in the biggest and most genuine smile Ron had ever seen on him. He accepted the phone with both hands as if it was the most precious and fragile thing in the world<br>"Thank you..." he said, his voice hardly more than a whisper.  
>He looked at the device for a moment as if it were new, as if he didn't know how it worked.<br>"Is this real, Ron? I find it hard to know what's real right now," he was smiling in awe.  
>Ron found it hard not to smile in return; that happy expression added a whole new dimension to Scorpius. He sipped his coffee then, watching the boy dial the number as if the keys were made of something far too fragile. It almost annoyed Ron, watching this boy touch the device like he wasn't familiar with it. But maybe it was real? For all he knew, that Prosak stuff wiped one's mind on top of making one hallucinate.<p>

Scorpius was looking at him thoroughly happily as he held the phone against his ear. The tone he was hearing seemed a bit off, as did the way the device 'felt'. There was an odd screeching sound before it shut down too, and Scorpius took the phone in both hands and looked at it. It was truly off... perhaps his big ears had hit a key, that had happened before. He started it again, tried to ignore how odd the display looked, and dialled again. He knew this could be caused by hallucinations... His heart was pounding in his throat; thankfully he had hurt himself. If it wasn't for the dripping blood he would have lost his mind by now.  
>He raised the phone to his ear again, but before he could hear what was going on, the display sparked and cracked in the way Scorpius had smashed it earlier. He <em>felt<em> the sparks though. He didn't just see and hear them, but he could _feel_ them on his skin. Audiovisual hallucinations weren't uncommon, but somatic hallucinations...? Had he ever had those before? He looked down at the phone, which was now in bits on the ground, and then slowly moved his gaze to Ron.

Ron didn't really know what to do with Scorpius staring at him like that. If looks could kill there would be very little left of him by now. He realised, of course, that he had underestimated the intricacy of the device and that magic and technology weren't a good match. But this was supposed to have been a nice gesture! There was no need to look at him with burning hatred, right?  
>Unsure of what to do, he cleared his throat and decided some humour might save the day: "Are you sure Alfred is real?" he asked, a small smile on his lips.<br>Before he knew what was going on, Scorpius had pushed him over with chair and all and they were on the ground, the boy's knee in Ron's gut and his fingers reaching for Ron's eyes.


	6. Chapter 5

Ron had of course no trouble stopping Scorpius from attacking him. He had been trained to deal with aggression, and if he had had any reason to assume the boy might attack him it would have never gotten this far to begin with. Scorpius was on his stomach on the floor now, his arm twisted on his back, and all tension seemed to have left his body. Ron didn't take any risks though, so he held on to the boy's wrist. He got his cell phone from his pocket and just looked at the screen for a moment, trying to stop his hand from shaking. It wasn't often that people he was close to attempted to burst his gut and take his eyes out. Only now did he feel the warmth of the coffee that stuck his shirt to his torso, and he put the phone aside to cast a cleaning charm with his wand. It took two attempts: the boy had really shaken him up. Then he took the phone again, and asked Scorpius for Alfred's number.

"...he's real?" Scorpius squeaked. It sounded like he was about to cry.  
>"Just tell me the number," Ron commanded. He had no need for any more of this drama.<p>

* * *

><p>Alfred's office didn't look a thing like how Ron had expected it to. It looked like that of a very relaxed businessman, if anything. He was sitting in the ear-chair across Alfred now, and Scorpius was in the waiting room.<br>"I thought it would be a good idea for the two of us to speak for a moment, first," Alfred said, putting his tie right and then setting his thin-framed glasses on his nose properly, "I thought you might appreciate speaking to someone who knows what's going on with him and isn't trying to push you either towards or away from him."  
>"He's not going to kill himself there?" Ron asked, "I saw children walk around there, I wouldn't want them to see him-... do... that."<br>Alfred gave a reassuring nod and smile; being here wasn't awkward at all, also very much unlike what Ron had expected. He felt this man took him seriously; not because of his function or anything, but as a person. He could understand mental people appreciated coming to talk to him. Maybe Harry should see him, too.  
>"Scorpius knows that he is now waiting to try to sort things out, so he won't do anything unorthodox," Alfred said, folding his fingers on his desk and looking at Ron. "In a moment, I would like to get him in here so the three of us can talk about what has been happening between the two of you today, and over the past five weeks. Before that though, I wanted to give you the opportunity to speak more freely, as it were." He allowed a brief pause, and Ron couldn't help but get a slight Dumbledore-like vibe from his man. This couldn't have been caused by anything but his serenity, for physically Dumbledore and Alfred had next to nothing in common.<br>"What a therapist, such as myself, usually does, is speak with clients about their experiences, thoughts, and feelings, in order to help them gain insight in their own minds and to hopefully help them cope better with life. I am qualified to prescribe medication, as I have done with Scorpius, in order to help regulate the brain's activity and make this 'coping' a bit less difficult."  
>"He was more mental <em>after<em> he took that pill though," Ron said, getting a bit more comfortable in his chair.  
>"Scorpius stopped taking fluoxetine, or prozac, as it is also called, without consulting me. Over time his brain had first gotten used to functioning <em>with<em> the help of the medication, and after he stopped it was just getting used to getting to its business _without_ chemical help when he started taking it again today. That might explain a great deal of his behaviour, and it is also something I wish to talk about to the both of you."  
>Ron didn't really have anything to say to this. It was interesting to be here and experience a psychoconversation or whatever one would call it, especially since Hermione had once suggested getting therapy to save their marriage. Ron had declined then, and he wasn't sure what the outcome of this meeting today would be. Regardless, he hoped this wouldn't take too long. Work was waiting for him.<p>

Alfred opened the door with a flick of his wand and Scorpius entered, closing it behind him as Alfred charmed another chair into existence next to Ron's. The boy had hardly sat down when he turned to Ron and took his hand, leaving them in a pose that was far too dramatic for Ron's tastes. "I owe you an apology. What I did today, attacking you like that, it was uncalled for regardless of what I might have been thinking. I'm- _truly_ sorry." When the boy then just looked at him, holding his hand, Ron kind of nodded at him and the boy turned to Alfred as if that was the sign he had been waiting for.  
>Scorpius proceeded to tell Alfred about today. How Ron hadn't answered the phone, how frantic he had been, how he had felt his meds kick in, how he knew Ron was annoyed with him and how he thought there was no hope fixing the situation. All this time, one of his hands was on Ron's and it felt sweaty, uncomfortable and not quite right.<br>"And then I saw my father... I had just been wondering how it would be to die, and then my father was there. And we looked eachother in the eyes, and I saw he didn't know what to do either, and I decided to pretend we were strangers and I asked him where I could find a coffee machine but before he could really answer I just walked on and I knew he turned to see me go and he didn't say a thing."  
>This was the first time the boy sounded genuine. Yes, that was it: the rest of what he had said in this office was some sort of façade, it was obvious now. Ron withdrew his hand from underneath Scorpius', and sat more comfortably.<br>Scorpius slowly moved his hand back, swallowed, and Alfred took some notes.  
>"I ended up getting Ron coffee from Starbucks, and then I went back. I was 'floating', everything seemed surreal and nothing really got through to me other than that I had to return to Ron's office. When I had done that, I started to really realise what had happened and I was starting to panic, so I tore my nail to calm down. Ron healed it for me- see?" He extended his hand for Alfred to see, then moved it back to his mouth where it remained as he continued to speak: "But then I needed a phone to call you, the one I had I crushed when I panicked earlier, so I asked Ron for his but he gave me <em>mine, <em>instead, and I was _so_ happy... That he had taken the effort to fix it... That he-... That he apparently _cared_, for _me_, you know?"  
>Ron was surprised to see the boy's eyes were wet. He didn't have time for this though, hearing everything be spelled out right after they'd experienced it, but he couldn't with a clear conscience say he wanted to leave; after all, it was <em>his<em> fault the boy was crying.  
>"It was sparking when I tried to call you. I felt the sparks, I had noticed it was being a bit 'off', but I thought it was because of my meds, so-... but then I <em>felt <em>the sparks and I knew it wasn't me – it was the phone, it wasn't fixed, it was the set up to some joke." Scorpius sounded bitter and sad now, a bit like Ron's children used to when they were saying they didn't want to eat their greens.  
>"I dropped the phone... I was blaming... Ron... I thought he had intentionally sabotaged it to mess with me, that he was trying to break me and that it was a 'jab', you know, mockingly letting me know he doesn't appreciate me, maybe that I'm broken or shattered, or that I'm breaking into his life, his home, ruining it, being too clingy, too desperate, a leech and a waste of space and that I should leave him alone."<br>Ron could feel a blush creep up in his face: "Wh- _Well_, it's not _quite_ like that, it's-..."  
>Thankfully, Alfred interrupted him when it was clear Ron wasn't going to think of a good way to end his sentence.<br>"You don't need to say anything now, Ronald. This is Scorpius recounting his experience of today's events. We will look at your version of the story later, and then try to gain some insight into the situation as a whole."  
>Ron shifted in his seat uncomfortably but nodded. He leaned his fingers over his lips to prevent himself from speaking too much. This chair was getting on his nerves: he was nearly laying in it. His ankle was on his knee and his elbow was leaning on the sloping arm support, making him seem like a hung over student rather than General of the Auror Department. He knew he'd said too much, and Scorpius did, too, judging from what he could see from the periphery of his sight.<br>"So, I asked Ron whether the phone was real. I had asked him that before it broke again, said I wasn't sure what was real at that moment. So after it broke, he asked me whether I was sure _you _were real. That set me off so I figured he didn't deserve the light in his eyes. I wanted to take them out. I don't know. Mutilate him."

Scorpius spoke with venom and he knew it. He was glad that Ron cast a disturbed look in his direction. He didn't want to be here anymore. Neither of them did.  
>"I know exactly what you're going to say, Alfred. You're going to tell me how I'm wrong, that this is an unhealthy relationship, that I'm not being myself right now, that I should calm down so something useful can happen here and that I should leave that poor man alone. I've wasted enough of him. See? His hair is turning grey with concern and annoyance."<br>That was a low blow and Scorpius knew it. Ron reached for his hair as if something had physically attacked it, which felt incredibly satisfying. Alfred started to say something in return, but Scorpius didn't care for it. He had a few things to get off his chest to Ron before he could listen to anything, even reason:  
>"You're <em>alone<em>, _everybody_'s left you – even your _parents _don'twant you and you're ugly, lazy, you're left with what your worthless friends left you with, nobody feels _any_ desire to interact with you, your flat is as personal as a hotel room and you have nothing to strive for in your miserable existence, you-_pitiful_ excuse of a man."  
>The word vomit had ended and Scorpius slumped back into his seat. It was as if all the energy had left his body with it. He tried to ignore the look of disbelief Ron gave him.<br>"Scorpius," Alfred said strictly, which annoyed him even more, "I hope you realise you are pro-"  
>"projecting," they said the word together, and Scorpius continued alone: "Yes, yes I know I am. <em>I'm<em> the crazy one so _I'm_ the one doing crazy things. But hey, at least I'm not fucking someone twenty-four years younger than me."  
>Alfred addressed Ron: "'Projecting' is when someone says things about someone else, which really are things about themselves that they find too difficult to admit. In this case, Scorpius said things he thinks about himself as if they apply to you."<br>"He's not stupid, you know," Scorpius snapped, not feeling justified in his anger anymore but not being able to control it either, "Not being dedicated makes him appear so. He doesn't want to be here. He wants to be at work, and find something to prove that what I just said doesn't actually apply to him. Not be here with-... me." He felt a sob rise in his throat.

Ron wasn't quite sure what to say to the dragonload of accusations Scorpius had just flung at him, not when Alfred invited him to and not when Scorpius turned to face him with his sad puppy eyes either. Part of him wanted to punch the boy, part of him wanted to shag him, and another part of him just wanted to leave. He thought deeply for a moment.  
>"You know..." he started, picking at his watch, hoping to delay any bad consequences his following words might have. "I really don't have time for this."<p>

Nearly instantly Scorpius started hiccoughing, sobbing, or something else of that nature, and Ron sighed in preparation for a shitstorm. Alfred seemed understanding enough, but nothing was resolved that day and Scorpius didn't say a word when Ron indeed left. Ron did get an owl from Alfred that evening, inviting him to see him and Scorpius Thursday to 'resolve' things, and telling Ron that he was in no way obliged to accept the invitation. Initially, Ron was indeed going to ignore it. He didn't want to have anything to do with this shit. The boy was practically Dragon's Snare, who in their right mind would willingly let themselves be captured?! Not Ron, no way.  
>However, at night, he caught himself trying to wrap an arm around the air beside him. He told himself this was simply out of habit, but when he on Wednesday realised he had checked for messages from the boy almost hourly, he felt he should accept Alfred's invitation.<p>

When Ron entered Alfred's office, Scorpius was sitting in one of the ear chairs. He was wearing faded jeans, a green hoody with a bright yellow print, and he was biting his thumbnail. The hood was up, so Ron couldn't see his face. Alfred welcomed Ron into the room and when Ron sat down, Scorpius unceremoniously handed him a scroll of parchment. It appeared to be a list of rules… for Scorpius. Apparently, Scorpius was going to be responsible with his medication, he wasn't going to be possessive anymore, which meant that he was only permitted to message Ron in response to a message of Ron's, and that he was going to stay away from Ron's home and work unless Ron explicitly invited him over. At the bottom of the parchment Scorpius 'officially declared to adhere to the above rules' with a signature.

When Ron looked up after reading it, Scorpius said:  
>"Is there anything that needs to be added?"<br>Ron could see now that his eyes were red and puffy, and there was a defeated attitude about him.  
>"Don't feel guilty towards me, you have to look out for yourself," the boy said, his face contorted. For a moment Ron thought the boy would cry, but then he regained his composure and proceeded,<br>"B-because I'll drag you to Hell Ron, I know I will-" He clearly tried to say something after that, but it was impossible to distinguish through the suppressed sobs. Alfred looked at Scorpius with his lips pressed together for a moment, then turned to Ron waiting for an answer.  
>"Nah, it's er…" Ron nodded. "Yeah. It'll do."<p>

* * *

><p>However annoying the boy may have been, he had been <em>company<em>. Ron found it hard to unwind after work with nobody there to talk to, to 'cook' for him, to snuggle up with, to compliment him, to fuck, or to —anything, really. Ordering food and watching porn were a very poor substitute, and hiring company felt below him somehow. Talking to Cormac and Harry was nice enough, but after two sessions of daily banter he realised why it didn't do enough for him; they had their own shit to worry about and were never _fully_ focussed on Ron. In his loneliness he even took in a cat. Granted, the only reason he did was because it was a stray that had been harmed in a mission Ron had participated in, so he felt responsible and had healed it and taken it home. The animal wasn't particularly affectionate though; all she cared about was licking and scratching herself. Scorpius may have been _too_ clingy and possessive, at least he had been available for 'petting'. All in all, however nice it was to focus when at work, every second outside of it Ron really missed Scorpius.

When Ron texted the boy to ask for his address a long week after their meeting he got a two-message response within a minute. Additional to the address it said that he was sorry, that perhaps Ron wanted to know that his two house mates Blake and Laurence were Muggles, that he was sorry again, and that he hoped Ron could forgive him for being a self-obsessed greedy whingey leeching bitch with no talent for magic, a tiny dick, and too much time to waste on people who were worth their life.  
>It was tempting to respond with something like 'don't drag yourself down like that', but that would permit the boy to respond again and Ron wasn't sure if he wanted that. Besides, Scorpius probably only sent it to elicit a response of that nature. Ron was worried, yes, but he wasn't going to play this game now he knew about it. So instead he just visited him the next day.<p>

A guy wearing only boxers opened the door, told him "second door on the right" when Ron asked for Scorpius, and then disappeared through a door on the left. Even though this was a terraced house that appeared decently maintained from the outside, the inside gave Ron Shrieking Shack vibes and he didn't like it. Carefully he entered, closed the door behind him, and knocked on the indicated door.

The room was smelly, tiny, dirty and smoky. Most space was at the left of the door, where a night stand, the bedhead, bookshelves and a book case were crammed against the wall. On the right was a clothing cabinet positioned in a way that only just permitted walking space between the bed and its door, though Ron could tell it couldn't open fully. At the far side was a desk that was loaded with books and paper under which a laptop was hiding. The walls were royal blue, the floor was some undetermined bright colour, there were no windows, and a table lamp tried its best to light the place. There did not appear to be anything magical about it.

Scorpius looked like he had shaven nor slept recently, and was sitting on the foot of the unmade single bed while looking at him with an expression he couldn't quite place when he asked;  
>"Have you heard the song 'Fallen Angel', by The Four Seasons?"<br>Ron shook his head and realised the boy hadn't changed his clothes since they last met.  
>"Frankie Valli, the singer- his daughter died of a drug overdose so they wrote it."<br>Ron said nothing so Scorpius continued: "I've been obsessed with this song lately. When I hear it I imagine it's about me. I mean: I know I'm no angel, but the rest of it – I imagine it's how my parents think about me. And you. How you think about me I mean. And it's er… Yes. Very… Very helpful. Soothing."  
>"Oh." Ron said, unsure what the boy's tone was, and unsure why he was being told all this about a song he didn't know. He looked down and saw a dark stain on the floor, against the bed. To have something to say he asked what it was.<br>"It's blood." Scorpius said, his manner reminding Ron of 11 year old Draco on their first day of Hogwarts.  
>"There's some elsewhere too. I used to catch it in bottles to not let this amazing 'pure blood' go to waste, but when my father had enough of me I smashed them and I've just been letting it run since."<br>"Ah."  
>After a few seconds of silence Ron sat down on the bed next to the boy, and noticed that it wasn't the room that stank, but Scorpius himself. A distinctive combination of sweat and old alcohol. He copied Scorpius' pose by leaning his elbows on his knees, though now his head was nearly touching the clothing cabinet and his long coat was tugging at his shoulders uncomfortably.<br>"What have you been up to?" he asked as casually as he could.

Scorpius just stared at the floor.

"I'm glad you're alive."

The boy took a breath as if to say something but then only sighed.

"Look," Ron paused for a moment, "I'm a man, all right? I need space."

Scorpius eyes now drilled into Ron's, so Ron looked at the cabinet instead as he continued; "You need to get your shit together. I'm not there to take care of you." He could feel Scorpius was still staring at him and he tried to ignore it, "Nobody is. Everyone only looks after themselves."

"You sound like my father," Scorpius said venomously, and Ron could feel a blush creep up in response. This was wrong on so many levels that it made him wonder why he had even decided to come here.  
>Before he could defend himself though, the boy added; "If you've really come to me to tell me to leave you alone, you're a fucking idiot."<p>

Scorpius looked away from Ron now, shut his eyes tightly and tried to swallow the guilt away. He wanted to hug the man, kiss him, tell him he was beautiful and hear him deny it, be his house elf, his sex slave, hell; he'd sacrifice his limbs if that meant being permitted to sleep outside his door.

Ron remained quiet.  
>When Scorpius had regained most of his composure he said:<br>"Don't worry about me. You don't owe me anything. And if you want sex no strings attached that's fine, just…-_Don't_ try to tell me about 'people', because I'm telling _you_, Ron; I understand them better than you ever will." He felt himself getting angry more genuinely now;  
>"And I have a question for you, tiger… Has it at all occurred to you that at the time I was getting on your tits so badly, that you could have literally told me 'no'?" He looked at Ron, who didn't seem to get it.<br>"You were always saying you're busy, but that doesn't mean 'no', does it, it can be interpreted in lots of ways. And I was thinking; Hey, maybe he means 'so I respond slowly', maybe he means 'ha I'm procrastinating', maybe it means 'no', maybe he means whatever else it can mean, but why wouldn't he say that then? He's a grown ass man, he can speak his mind, I don't need to fill shit in for him, I'm _imagining_ he's getting fed up with me, I'm _imagining_ he's impatient with me, I'm _reading into it_ too much, _why_ am I doing that, am I _losing_ it again? And it _fucked me up_ Ron, it made me lose. my. grip., if you'd just speak your _goddamn mind_ instead of trying to be polite we wouldn't be—… I'd…"

Ron was about to interrupt him, so Scorpius quickly continued;  
>"<em>You<em> are a man who needs space. I _get_ that, but you have to understand that I need _clarity_. I read into every breath you take, I do that with everyone, don't think you're fucking special, I just need people to say what they _mean_ so I can be sure that I'm not reading into things. All right...?" The anger had gone, as had his energy, and he looked at Ron now who looked back at him, and he felt his eyes get wet, and he reached for the man's hair and stroked it back with his sweaty hand, and somehow… things didn't seem so bad anymore.

Ron slowly nodded, and Scorpius nodded along with him, and they smiled. When Ron then suggested the boy should have a shower it thankfully made him laugh.  
>"I'll brush my teeth too, how 'bout that!" Scorpius said from the hallway.<br>"Sounds great!" Ron responded with a smile, and got up off the bed. Now he had the room to himself for a bit it was time to have a look around.

There was a quill on the desk, and when Ron picked it up he could see the post-it underneath. It read:

_When the world  
>sicks me out<br>I lean on you_

_When I slit you  
>through my skin<br>I grow whole again  
><em>

The ink colour seemed a bit off, but Ron paid it no mind. What bothered him was that it only now dawned on him what the scars on the boy's thighs were. He had a fair number of scars himself, caused by his job, so it hadn't occurred to him before that perhaps somebody else's scars could be self-induced. He could have guessed it of course, if he had only stopped to consider it.. Slightly uncomfortable he proceeded, feeling far too much like he did when he was going through Harry's scribbles. Underneath the note was a notepad with what looked like lecture notes, and underneath that was a sheet of Muggle paper with printed text. It was crumpled, so he flattened it to read it without picking it up:

_There are moments in my life when I feel as though a part of me is missing.  
>There are days when I feel so invisible that I can't remember what day of the week it is,<br>when I feel so manipulated that I can't remember my own name,  
>when I feel so lost and angry that I can't speak a civil word to the people who love me best.<br>These are the times when I catch sight of my reflection and am surprised to see a whole person looking back… I have to close my eyes at such times and remember myself,  
>draw an internal pattern that is smooth and whole.<br>(P. Williams, On Being The Object of Property)_

Underneath the print, in Scorpius' handwriting, it said;

_We know boy  
>shut up now.<em>

He carefully put the sheet aside to find some study books. He piled them up on the bed, and found another few sheets of paper underneath it. Some had writings on them of which some were scratched out, some had drawings of dinosaurs, dragons, and other big creatures. And all of this paper was stained with blood. It had dried, and Ron realised that this was the exact colour the little poem on the post-it was written in.  
>It wasn't surprising to him that the boy would write in blood, but it still made him very uncomfortable. Not just for the boy's sake; it reminded him of other things he'd rather not think of. There had been a mission a few years ago, where he himself and a few of his men had entered an inconspicuous magical house because neighbours had reported suspicious activity and the owner didn't respond to owls or knocking. Inside, it had become clear that the owner had lost his mind and was using the bodies and blood of Muggles – children- as potion ingredients, home décor and writing material. The man had claimed he was only trying to make the world better by allowing Muggles to be a part of the wizarding world. Taking him to Azkaban had thankfully not been difficult.<br>Scorpius was a crazy wizard too, though thankfully _his_ first and foremost victim was himself. To try to ban these thoughts from his mind, Ron put the exposed sheets back under the things that had covered them before and examined a different pile on the desk.  
>This one had study books on top, and underneath them was another sheet with Scorpius' writing. Thankfully this one was not written in blood, but in plain black ink.<p>

_i know who i am cos  
>i know what im not<em>

_im the thing that breathes the air others are gasping for and im the thing that steps on plants that finally broke through concrete and im the thing that eats those bred to die and im the thing that casts a shadow and im the thing that is without wanting to be and there are many like me but im not the one that makes you happy and im not the one you care for and you arent here for me RIGHT NOW YOU WORTHL_

The rest of the big letters were scratched through and illegible, and at the bottom of the page it said '_I love you_'  
>Ron licked his lips nervously – this looked recent, and that meant it had to be about him. Why was he here again? The boy was mad! Was there anything else to consider? He hadn't exactly forgiven Scorpius for his outbursts, nor had he thoroughly considered what they implied. He had just… missed him. Quite terribly, really. But now he read this… this rant, or poem, or whatever, and it made him reconsider.<p>

Right, decision time. He put the stuff back on the desk the way he had found it and left the room. He was going to go home, try to pet the cat again or something, and name it. Yeah. Name the cat. Get dinner. Go to work. Go clubbing. Drink. Club harder. Hook up. Pass out drunk. Wake up. Repeat.  
>When he set foot in the hallway he could hear the boy in the shower. It wasn't just the sound of the water that reached him though – the boy was humming, too.<p>

Ron stopped dead in his tracks.  
>Fuck.<p>

Fuckfuckfuck. He wasn't sure if the sound creeped him out or made him happy, but regardless of that; he couldn't just leave now, not like this, not now the boy thought everything was going to be all right. Could he? He didn't want to be suffocated again. But if he just said 'no', like the boy told him to, maybe…

Fuck.

He quietly unlocked the door and passed through it.

**A/N: I tried to fix the paragraphs, not sure how that worked out but I don't think I can do better. The width of ff dot net is what ruins it most I think.  
>...and I feel evil for this particular cliffy. Hope you enjoyed! Let me know. Even if you hate it :3<strong>


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